Matthew Boot and The Dementor's Soul
by G12G4
Summary: In the years immediately following the Battle of Hogwarts many Death Eaters are still causing havoc in the wizarding world. Rodolphus LeStrange, husband of Bellatrix, and his brother Rabastan set out reunite Barty Crouch Jr. with his soul that he might help them bring together the remnant. Now it is up to Matthew Boot, the 1st squib ever to go to Hogwarts, to stop them.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Prologue**

To: Chadwick Boot V

of Ilvermorny, MA

Dear Prof. Boot,

I am writing to answer your inquiry as to how I came to be enrolled at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry given my... limitations which dad wrote to you regarding a few years back.

I suppose it all started on my second birthday, when my brother, Terry, was ten and Izzy wasn't even a thought.

My parents had brought home a children's broom for me following a trip to Diagon Alley with my brother to buy his Hogwarts things, his letter having come some weeks before, though its receipt had never been in doubt. I was overjoyed as I galloped around the house with the broom straddled between my legs. My father seemed less overjoyed. He kept trying to get me to allow the broom to fly me around, but it just wouldn't. All it did was fall to the ground. I thought this was a fun game, I didn't understand why mum and dad weren't laughing. Mum said I was too young, that it would come, and dad decided to agree. I think Terry knew, but he didn't want to say anything.

When I was six and Izzy was three (her name is Isolde in homage to the founder of Ilvermorny, but we all called her Izzy), I still had not done so much as moved a leaf. Meanwhile, Izzy was bouncing about the house like a rubber ball.

We played Quidditch on a child-sized pitch, Izzy zooming along on the broom my parents had bought for me and I running along behind. Sometimes, during holidays, Terry would play too. He tried to do his best by me. He'd let me play chaser, but, inevitably, I couldn't keep up with him or Izzy, who barely understood the game but could still score three points before I had one. He let me play beater a few times, hitting bludgers from the ground at them. But mostly I played keeper.

I loved it. I loved jumping from hoop to hoop, blocking the quaffle. Terry swore I was part monkey, kept checking me for a tail. Dad noticed it as well, he enrolled me in a muggle gymnastics school. Which, you'd think on top of wizarding primary school would have been difficult given how difficult the wizarding primaries are, but I didn't mind.

Even then I began studying magic. I would take Terry's books from the previous year and read them at night until mum had to bewitch the candles so I could not light them after a certain hour. When he found out, Terry said I was a born Ravenclaw, just like him.

For a year I practiced. I loved the feeling of flying through the air, of catching myself and flying again, of spinning and turning and flipping like Terry could do but without the need of a broom. Then a new girl joined our class, a really pretty girl from Latvia named Sophie, she did the most amazing floor routine I ever saw. She was leaping, soaring, landing as briefly as a butterfly before alighting once more. It was as though she was magic. She laughed when I asked if she was a witch, she told me it was only ballet. Of course, I begged my parents to let me learn ballet as well.

My parents tried to pretend. Terry gave them hope, saying a boy in his year, Neville, hadn't shown any magical abilities until he was about my age. But even then, Terry knew, he just didn't want them to give up on me. That year, in his letters, Terry told me the most fantastic tales of Dumbledore's Army and how they had duped that toady witch Dolores Umbrage. I fell asleep dreaming of patronuses and secret rooms.

In his last letter he told me about how the famous Harry Potter had broken into the Department of Mysteries and fought off a whole crew of death eaters. He was mad for the idea of the Department of Mysteries and he swore one day he would work there. Most nights I found the light under his door still on long after we were both supposed to be asleep.

Soon, I was not only leading my classes but Terry could not get a quaffle by me. Finally, during the holiday, it was time to put my plan into motion. On a particularly easy goal attempt I caught the quaffle, but instead of merely throwing it out I slid down the post and ran with it, much to the amazement of Terry and Izzy. But that only lasted a moment before Terry decided on a new game. "Get him!" he shouted. But, even though I was slow compared to his broom he couldn't touch me, try as he might. I ducked and dodged and rolled and then I was at the goal post. I threw it and, with no keeper present to stop it, the quaffle went in. Terry got quite a laugh out of the whole display, but it was the first time I had ever scored a goal on my brother.

It was the last time I saw Terry laugh for a long time.

I was nine now, and my parents took me to St. Mungo's to hear from a doctor what they already knew. My mother cried. There would be no letter from Hogwarts next year.

When Terry came home for the holiday that year he was covered in cuts and bruises. He claimed it had been broomstick accident. But he had scars that were much older. He wouldn't tell me anything. Mum and dad tried to convince him not to return, but he was of age and could do as he pleased, and he was going back.

It was nearing Summer when we got the message in the middle of the night that Voldemort had attacked Hogwarts. They didn't say who the students were who fought, but I knew Terry would be among them. Mum and dad grabbed their wands and, without even changing from their night clothes they told me to look after Izzy until they returned. But how could I allow them to leave me behind? I could help! I knew I could. They made to disapperate but I jumped on dad's back before they vanished. I found myself beside an unfamiliar forest near a burned out squat hut. Beyond it wide grounds stretched before us and a great castle I knew to be Hogwarts from my studies.

My parents were furious. They told me to stay in the hut and out of the way, that they would come for me when the fighting was over. I tried to plead my case but they wouldn't listen. They locked me in and put a barrel in front of the door. I cried as I watched them join the crowd of families popping up around the grounds, all heading toward the castle. They were tears of rage, and insult, and terrible fear. Not fear for myself, but fear that I might never see my parents and brother again.

I saw a thousand different scenarios where they were in mortal peril and only I could save them, but here I was in this burned out old hut. I kicked a piece of charcoal across the ruin when suddenly I heard a sound from the forest. It was movement, light, barely audible. Then the howl like that of a wolf and a man combined pierced the night air, chilling me to the bones.

I had heard of werewolves before, Terry told me one of their Defense against the Dark Arts teachers was a werewolf and that he had still liked him (though mum and dad were scandalized that Dumbledore had shown such a lapse in judgement). But something told me these werewolves were not so pleasant company. I could hear them from where I stood, talking in low growling voices. In the woods I saw their shadows, lean and lanky, bent almost double. Eyes caught the light, flashing green.

"I smell someone," a tall, thin one with long hair said.

"I smell lots of people," another growled.

"No... this is someone close. Someone small... tender..." His head went up, his eyes flashed and met mine. "There!"

I jumped through the window and ran as I had never run before, without thinking, I was flying. Flying across the grounds. I could hear the sound of the werewolves behind me, feel their hot breath on my heels. Even with a head start they were faster. There was one behind me, two coming up on the sides, running like beasts with their hands serving as forepaws. I couldn't outrun them.

I jumped.

I flipped backwards, landing squarely on the back of the one behind me. I pulled my arm tight around his throat, causing him to roll over, bowling his mates who followed close behind over. I was up before they even understood they had fallen.

I was running again, now I was at the castle where giants battled over the entrance. I dodged the blow of a club weaving between massive feet into the entrance to the castle. I heard the yelp of a werewolf and turned just in time to see him thrown in the air by the careless blow of a club. I desperately wanted to find Terry but the howls from behind told me not all of the werewolves had given up the chase.

I ran up a staircase and was startled to feel it move beneath me. Terry had told me of the moving stairs but I was still completely unprepared for it. In fact, all the stairs were moving in almost continuous motion. Wizards and witches dueled over the everchanging landscape above my head. The long haired werewolf came through the door, two brutish men at his side. He sniffed the air a moment and turned with a smile.

"There he is!"

I broke from my trance, running up the staircase which was just starting to move again. My foot hit the floor just as the corner shifted away, but the werewolves were close behind, stuck on the shifting stair that had decided to connect on the other side of the floor. I ran to the next stairway, narrowly dodging a green flash of light. I leapt onto the moving staircase and then onto another that crossed close by where a wizard dueled a man in death eater's robes, his silver mask askance. I had not accounted for the movement on my landing and rolled down the staircase and into the death eater who, in his surprise, lost his balance and fell, dropping his wand. I picked it up, pocketing it.

"Thanks!" the wizard said, jumping off onto the next floor as the stair passed by. I watched for a moment when suddenly I realized the long haired werewolf was waiting along the corridor I was about to pass. I jumped from the stair onto the floor just below. My arms spun in a circle as I caught my balance on the ledge. Glancing back I saw the long haired werewolf jump onto the stair (his companion missing the jump entirely) running with all his might to get to the corridor before it moved on, but he was too late. I heard him curse loudly.

I ran down the hall, threading through green and red blasts. Suddenly, it seemed the floor gave out on me, I was falling. I reached out and caught something hard and metal. It was a chandelier! I was now dangling precariously above a first floor hallway. Pulling myself up, I watched as witches and wizards dueled below. I saw a witch, tall and thin, with a severe face, dueling a wizard. They were well matched but she seemed to be getting the better of him.

Without warning, a death eater approached from behind to tilt the odds to their favor. But she was too caught up in her battle to notice. I looked for a weapon I might use, knowing full well the wand in my pocket was as useless as a branch in my hands. But I did see the candles. I threw the flaming wax bombs onto the wizard. I had never realized robes were so flammable, or perhaps it was just that man. He screamed, fleeing as fast as he could. This gave the witch the opportunity she needed. She stunned her dueling partner. She looked up, and seeing me in the chandelier, she tipped hat, before turning into a cat and bounding off to the Great Hall.

There was a creaking sound above me. I looked up just in time to see the heavy bolts that held the chandelier in place stretch and twist as the fixture groaned its way from the ceiling. A large troll looked up just in time to watch it drop onto his head. Terry was not joking about the stupidity of trolls. It had not even tried to move. I leapt just before impact, rolling across the floor into a crouch.

Then everything froze. Well, not exactly froze, for everyone could still move, they just didn't. They hurried to the Great Hall. I could hear voices. Harry Potter had appeared. Harry Potter was dueling Lord Voldemort. I wanted to see but couldn't through the crush of the crowd. I wanted to hear but the din muffled the voices.

A force pulled my leg, toppling me over. I was dragged back from the hall. "There you are my little pudding," the long haired werewolf sneered as he pulled me along into a corridor. I kicked at the claw like nails that grasped my calf, flopping about like a fish to no avail. I was caught. I could see the glint of his sharp teeth.

"Stupefy!" A red beam of light hit the werewolf square in the chest.

"Terry!" I cried, disengaging myself from the limp hand. Terry stood before me, a large wound in his forehead bleeding, his wand pointed at the stupefied werewolf. I ran into my brother's arms.

"Matthew! What in the world are you doing here? You could have been killed."

"I just... I wanted to help."

Terry looked at me like he wanted to scold me, but instead his eyes got sparkly and he pulled me in tighter. "You'll never be a Ravenclaw thinking like that," he murmured into my shoulder.

The battle ended a short time later. Terry and I watched as the death eaters fled the Hogwarts grounds and those that did not were rounded up by Aurors or parents, even some were held captive by students. "So he's really dead?" I asked.

"I suppose so."

"It's strange, isn't it? It feels strange. I mean I'm glad. I am! But it just feels odd. Oh! I grabbed this wand." I held up the thing for Terry to see. "Would you like it?"

"Where'd you get that from?"

"Some death eater I accidentally knocked off the stairs."

"Nah, it'll never work for me. It's your wand I suppose. Seems fitting, if you ask me."

"How so?"

"After all the dark purposes it's served for pureblood causes, it's won by a squib."

I almost laughed.

We went in search of mum and dad and found them, a bit worse for the wear, speaking with the severe looking cat lady from before. "Mum! Dad!" we shouted, running up and hugging them.

"Ah, Terry, it is good to see you are all right."

"Thank you, Prof. McGonagall," Terry said. "Or is it Headmistress now?"

Professor McGonagall! I could barely contain myself.

"Headmistress, I think, for the time being. And who is this young fellow?" She smiled at me.

"This is my brother, Matthew Boot."

"Matthew. You look a little young to be a Hogwarts student."

"He's not a student, he's only ten," Mum said.

"What a brave lad. I hope to see you next year in my house." She smiled and walked off.

None of us bothered to correct her. The truth would have out soon enough; I suppose they thought. But in that moment, I realized I never wanted anything more. I had to find a way to get into Hogwarts somehow. I was a Boot, afterall, I could get this figured.

I threw myself into my studies even as my parents began the process of enrolling me into a muggle school. Terry was accepted into the Department of Mysteries. Given that The Ministry of Magic had lost a fair number of its employees in the last year most of the students who desired a position found the doors wide open to them, particularly those who had fought in what was now commonly called The Battle of Hogwarts.

Many of Voldemort's followers were still at large and Aurors were in great demand. Both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, household names by now, joined the aurors. I wanted to join them and fight the last of the death eaters as well.

I wrote to Terry about my dream. That there must be some way for a squib to get into Hogwarts. He tried to dissuade me and, finding that I would not be discouraged, he finally gave me the name of a girl he had known in school, Hermione Granger, who he said had done a lot of work fighting to get equal rights for House Elves. He said he doubted there was anything she could do, but if anyone might even listen to my cause, it would be her.

By now the first year was almost over. I found school boring and dreamed of nothing more than defeating death eaters. Izzy grew tired of playing death eaters and wizards with me. She was getting too old for pretend now. The only freedom I found was when I was flying between quidditch goals. We had increased the height so they were almost regulation sized. I had been inspired by a Chinese gymnast in the circus and learned how to leap from pole to pole, shimmying up and sliding down as fast as a breath.

I waited to write Ms. Granger. I can't say why. I guess it was her fame that scared me. Maybe I was just afraid she would say "No" and that I was being silly and I should give up. And then it would all be in black and white and I wasn't ready to face that yet. But finally, after months of putting it off, it turned out Terry had done it for me. He handed me the letter.

 _Dear Terry,_  
 _I don't know that there's anything to be done, but I'll look into it._

 _Hermione_

I read the letter over and over again until it was practically falling apart in my hands.

Another letter came a month later.

 _Dear Terry,  
Well, I've spoken with the Minister of Magic and Headmistress McGonagall. The minister is skeptical but Prof. McGonagall thinks there might be a way. I'll tell you more as soon as I hear._

 _Hermione_

And then a third almost a month later. This would be the answer, I knew. I couldn't open it. Fortunately, it was not mine to open. Terry grabbed it from me and opened it, mumbling as he read,

"Dear Terry,  
It is with regret I inform you that the Minister of Magic does not support sending a non-magical person to Hogwarts under any conditions. However,"

Terry's voice rose steadily as he continued. "However, he has agreed to defer to Prof. McGonagall on this matter. She has decided if Matthew can show extraordinary talent in areas other than performative magic he can join Hogwarts as a student! Matthew!" Terry shouted, hugging me. "All he has to do is achieve an Outstanding the written portion of the OWLS in seven subjects..." his voice slowed again. "Seven subjects." He shook his head. "Including History of Magic and Potions."

"Don't worry, Terry, I'm a Boot. We're practically the heads of Ravenclaw."

"Seven is a lot though, you've never even made a potion. And you'll have to sit for the OWLS next year."

"You can teach me. Please Terry, I can't give up now! We have to try!"

Terry thought for a minute, "Fine. I'll teach you everything I know."

And so we worked for hours every day after he came home. I spent whole weeks with my nose pressed into his old textbooks. When I had them almost memorized he brought books from the library. He drilled every potion into my head until I could almost make them with my eyes closed.

Finally, the day came. Terry took me to London with him where we came to the Ministry of Magic. A rather unremarkable building, I thought. Ms. Granger, soon Mrs. Weasley, met me just inside. "Good luck, Matthew," she said as she closed the door in the little white room, bare except for my own desk and the desk of the examiner who sat across from me.

I took OWLS for every subject possible that day. I couldn't tell you how I managed it.

A month later, an owl from the ministry arrived. In that moment I was certain I had failed them all, that I would be relegated to the life of a muggle forever. That the only way I might get into Hogwarts was as the caretaker. Terry and I opened the letter. Nine Outstandings; including History of Magic and Potions. I was going to Hogwarts.

I hope that answers your questions. If you have any more you can send them to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where I will be staying as of tomorrow. Sorry for the late reply, as you can guess, I've been a bit busy.

Your loving relation from across the pond,

Matthew Boot


	2. Chapter 2: The Hogwarts Express

**Chapter 1: The Hogwarts Express**

"No! Mum please! You can't let him come!" Izzy wailed, her normally rosy cheeks now scarlet from crying. "I'll be humiliated in front of all of Hogwarts! Please don't do this to me! It's so unfair!"

"Isolde Rionach Boot, how can you be so selfish? You brother has done something no other child has ever done in the history of Hogwarts. You should be proud of him," their mother replied. Matthew remained silent pretending to be more preoccupied with his owl. Well, technically it was Terry's, something of a gift from his brother when he had gotten his Hogwarts letter.

"He can go next year, can't he? They'll call me the Squib's Sister! They'll think I'm a Squib too!"

"Isolde! How dare you say such a thing!"

"Well, it's true!"

"That's it! Not one more word out of you until we get to King's Cross!"

Izzy folded her arms and threw herself against her seat, sulking. She looked even more like a child with her lower lip protruding. She still had the same blond curls as when she was a toddler and Matthew had to stifle a laugh when he snuck a glance over at her. He couldn't blame her for being upset. This was supposed to be her year and now all the focus would be on him. Or, at least, that's what she had been moaning the past few weeks.

He knew he should resent her for it, but every time she started he could not help but want to laugh. He had really done it. He was going to Hogwarts. The first squib ever to be enrolled. The occasional thought that there might be challenges always seemed to flit away as quickly as it reared its head, replaced by his ever-growing excitement.

Of course there would be challenges, but he was more than ready to meet them. He had been accepted for demonstrating "Extraordinary Magical Knowledge". He hoped that would be enough for the Sorting Hat to allow him to carry on the family tradition of being in Ravenclaw House.

He ran his fingers through his sandy hair and straightened his glasses. Almost no wizard children wore glasses, Izzy had pointed out in one of her fits, except for Harry Potter (well, and Percy Weasley but he was a pretentious git - a word that had landed her in her room for an hour). Matthew really didn't need them most of the time, he didn't wear them for sports, except Quidditch, but they put the world in more focus. He liked being able to see the birds as more than blobby creatures.

"We're almost there," Mrs. Boot called back in a singsong voice.

Izzy threw herself against the back seat again with a "hmph!"

They unloaded the car (a purchase Mr. Boot had made a few years back when they realized that it would be quite difficult to hide taking Matthew to and from his activities by broom). Anyone watching from the outside would have marveled at exactly how much they were able to fit in the boot of the little vehicle as they extricated two very large trunks, an owl cage and a number of other odds and ends and placed them on trolleys.

"Time to get back in your cage, Tycho," Matthew said, urging the bird toward the cage. Tycho turned his head from the cage and hooted irritably, he was not eager to be confined. "Would you rather fly to Hogwarts?" Matthew asked, almost as irritable as his owl.

"Hoot hoot!" Tycho answered happily.

Matthew looked imploringly over at his father, secretly taking the bird's side. He imagined it must be a glorious thing to fly the grand hills and forests to Scotland. Far better than being stuck in the luggage rack of a train in a cage. "Into the cage, Tycho," the elder Boot said sternly. Tycho did as he was told.

"Well, it wasn't my choice," Matthew whispered to the owl who stuck its beak up as though it was willfully ignoring him.

Izzy carried her white cat awkwardly in her arms; combined with her red sailor pea coat and matching beret she looked years younger than she was. So much so that a number of people kept asking her "Are you lost, little girl?" as she walked purposefully past toward platform 9 ¾, well ahead of her family who struggled to keep her in sight. She disappeared through the barrier before Matthew had even gotten to platform 8.

"She'll get over it." Mrs. Boot attempted to assure Matthew.

"It's ok, Mum. Really it is. We probably won't even be in the same house."

Mrs. Boot looked as though she wanted to object but couldn't. Izzy had never found much use for books after she had discovered they weren't meant for building with.

"You are sure she's ours, right?" Mr. Boot joked.

"That's what the hospital told me," Mrs. Boot replied in the same way she always did.

They approached the barrier. He had been through plenty of times when he'd come to see his brother off, but still as they drew closer his stomach began to tighten. What if it didn't let him through? What if it knew he was a squib? That he didn't belong? What if, when he ran up to, he just bounced off? "Are you ready, Matty?" his mum said. He could tell she was anxious too.

"Would you... would you maybe go through with me?"

"Of course, Matty. Of course." She gripped the bar of the trolley, standing next to him. "Let's take it at a bit of a run, shall we?"

They ran at the barrier and suddenly, as it always had, it vanished and they were standing in the middle of the platform where dozens of wizarding families were saying goodbye to their loved ones. Izzy was staring in amazement at the train when another young girl ran up to her, Matthew recognized her at once as Agnes Greengrass, one of her best friends. Agnes pointed to something on the train and the two girls ran off together. Subconsciously his hand moved to the wand in his pocket as if to somehow assure himself that he actually belonged here.

It was an eleven-inch ebony wand, plain in appearance excepting two gold lines that served as trim for the handle, one on the top and one on the bottom. When they had gone to Diagon Alley, Matthew had brought the wand, with the thought to sell it.

Well, it had been more his parents' thought, really. They weren't keen to have a Death Eater's wand about the house, even as a trophy. He was less eager to part with it. He had had it since he was ten and he felt like it was his now. But the unexpected expense of sending two children off to Hogwarts at the same time proved a challenge for the Boots and he was asked to do his part.

Matthew vividly recalled presenting it to Ollivander while his sister swished her new wand about (Ash, ten inches, Unicorn Hair, unyielding; a rare combination). The old man rolled the wand in his fingers, examining it so closely his pointed nose was almost touching it. "Eleven inches, dragon heartstring and ebony, slightly bendy: this wand belonged to Magnus Rosier. Hmmm… I sense regret, and a great sadness... "

"How much will you give me for it?" Matthew asked, prompted by a push from his father.

"Oh no no no! I cannot take this wand!" Mr. Ollivander said, quickly handing the wand back to Matthew.

"Why not?" Matthew asked.

"Because, my boy, it has changed its allegiance. Did you, perhaps, win this wand in battle?"

"In a manner of speaking..." Matthew didn't much like to talk about the Battle of Hogwarts. He had never known what became of the Death Eater he had pushed off the stair; he hadn't wanted to know. What if that man had fallen to his death? Now that he knew the man's name, that horrible curiosity rose within him again. "But it can't have changed its allegiance. I'm a squib!" His parents winced at the word.

"That is very curious... All the same, it has chosen you as its new master. It won't work properly for anyone else."

"But it won't work for me either!" Matthew objected. He had wanted to keep the wand but it seemed a terrible shame that it should choose to waste itself on him.

"The wand chooses the wizard, anything else I could say would only be conjecture. But I think it may harbor a good deal of regret for the dark magic it was forced to do by its previous master. Wands are not just objects that can be used by anyone for any purpose. It may have felt it had been betrayed when it was used to do dark magic. I believe if I sold it again it would not work for any wizard. Perhaps that is why it has chosen you; because you can never force it to do magic against its will. But do keep in mind, that is only a guess."

Or, as Izzy had put it: a wand as defective as he was. That remark had caused her to be grounded for a week. He had tried to remind himself she was just angry, but that remark had stung him though he tried to pretend it hadn't. Still, it came to his mind now. A wand as defective as he was.

But still, it was _his_ wand. And knowing it had chosen him made it seem more like a friend. He felt more confident just having it by his side. He had avoided looking up its prior master, but he got the sense his parents had done so for they seemed warier of the wand than they had been before.

He could see his sister hanging out a window, waving, with her friend Agnes wedged in beside her, doing the same. "Goodbye, Izzy! Goodbye, Agnes! Behave yourselves!" Mrs. Boot shouted, waving, with her husband by her side.

She turned to her son, straightening his collar. "Goodbye, Matty."

"Goodbye, Mum." He had promised himself he would not cry, but now tears stung his eyes.

"Don't forget to write us."

"I won't, Mum."

"Oh, Matty!" she cried, hugging him tight.

"It's alright, Mum, I'll be back for the holidays before you know it."

"If you ever decide you want to come back... before then... you can."

Matthew could tell she had been holding this in until this moment. "You worry too much, Mum. I'll be fine," he attempted to reassure her as much as himself.

"I know, I know. Take care of yourself Matty."

"Watch over your sister," his father said, looking to where his daughter now hung with almost her entire body out of the train, Agnes holding her steady by the shins so that Izzy could make faces at a young boy. "I think she may need it."

"Always, Dad."

His father seemed unsure of whether he should embrace his son or not, finally he settled on a handshake. "Goodbye son. You're a tribute to the Boot name."

Matthew boarded the train nervously. He recognized a few faces among the compartments but the moment he met their eyes they turned away. Izzy's compartment was completely full, but from her scowl as he passed he got the sense she was not keen to sit with her older brother, anyhow. She returned to showing off her new wand to her friends.

He finally reached the end of the corridor where there was what appeared to be an empty berth. He opened the door and plopped down only to discover it was not, in fact, empty, but was occupied by a scrawny girl reading the Daily Prophet. Despite her size she looked to be about his age. Her face was narrow, with a hard-set expression. Her auburn hair had been chopped so that it just reached her chin, she brushed the right bit aside so that it sat, pinned by her ear. She was almost swimming in thin-knit green and gold Holyhead Harpies style Quidditch robes which covered a pale purple Weird Sisters T-shirt and grey jeans.

"Holyhead Harpies, eh?" Matthew attempted to sound friendly.

The girl ignored him, turning the page of the paper and holding it up so that it concealed her face, leaving the only thing visible her fingers and shoes. He found the shoes quite amusing. They were muggle sandshoes, without a doubt, faded black and worn, with a pattern of little rainbow colored skulls. There were no two ways about it to Matthew's mind, this girl looked cool and her aloof demeanor only added to the effect.

On the front page of the Prophet two faces scowled at him from their mugshots, the headline read:

 **Rabastan and Rodophus Le Strange: Still at Large**

Every day the Daily Prophet featured pictures of Death Eaters who had still not been rounded up in the two years since the end of the war. Sometimes, they featured a story about a daring raid by Aurors, or the capture of a particularly notorious Death Eater, but almost as often, they told of brutal muggle slayings or witches and wizards who had disappeared. While a number of Death Eaters had surrendered following the Battle of Hogwarts, it seemed just as many had decided that if they were destined for Azkaban they would make it worth their while.

Not much caring for the way the Le Stranges were staring at him, he turned his attention to the back page where a cheery looking couple wearing very old fashioned striped bathing suits that looked like something Queen Victoria might have worn waved from in front of a sandy beach:

 **Nicholas Flamel and wife celebrate milestone anniversary in Greece**

 _Here's to another 600 years! Flamel says._

Matthew had a hard time believing they were 100 let alone over 600. He knew sorcery could slow the aging process but this seemed quite a leap. It must be a typo. "600 years sure is a long time to be married," he said, fiddling with his wand.

The girl ignored him again, flipping to another page. This time he caught a glimpse of her hands. She was wearing gloves despite the warm weather. They were leather and fingerless. Seeker's gloves.

"So, are you a seeker?"

The girl pulled the paper down low enough that she could see Matthew. "Why are you even talking to me?" she asked in a disdainful tone.

"Well, there's no one else to talk to is there?"

"Did that flobberworm, McLaggen, put you up to this?"

"Who?"

Matthew's look of confusion must have been enough to convince her that whoever this McLaggen was Matthew was not in league with him, for she said, "Not yet, but I will be."

"You sound pretty confident."

"Avery graduated last year, there's not another person who can even come close to me on the Quidditch pitch."

"I play keeper."

"Will you be trying out this year, then?"

"No," he looked down, "probably not."

The girl made a scoffing sound, "Why not?"

"I can't fly."

"No wonder you're a keeper then. They can't fly worth bullocks."

Matthew knew she had misinterpreted what he meant but did not feel the need to correct her. He smiled. "My name's Matthew," he said, extending his hand.

"Ceelee." she said, shaking it.

"So the Holyhead Harpies. You must be a Ginny Weasley fan then."

"You think?!" she said, pulling out a worn Ginerva Weasley trading card. Ceelee's face practically glowed as she showed it to him. "She's only the best seeker in the league! She graduated my first year so I never got the chance to play with her but one day I'm going to get onto the Holyhead Harpies and then I'll show her what I can do."

"Hopefully she'll still be playing by then."

"Of course she will! Why wouldn't she be?"

"Well, isn't she going with Harry Potter? Maybe they'll get married and she'll want to start a family."

She grimaced as though she had tasted something unpleasant, "Yeah, but how many Hogwarts relationships really last?" Matthew shrugged. The pair fell into easy conversation about the World Quidditch Cup and how England had been robbed in the second to last game of the finals. Matthew was really starting to feel like maybe this year would be good after all when the door to the compartment opened and three burly young men in Gryffindor robes appeared.

The ringleader, a large, muscular young man with curly blond hair spotted Ceelee and immediately started singing loudly with no attention to key "You Stole My Cauldron but You Can't Have My Heart"

"Get lost, McLaggen!" she said.

"Aw, but Celestina, you charmed the heart right out of me!" the young man jeered.

"Celestina?" Matthew asked.

"Aw, you didn't tell your little boyfriend your name?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" she shouted. It was true, but she didn't need to object quite so vehemently, Matthew thought.

"Hey, leave her alone er... McLaggen." Matthew said, standing, his wand still in hand.

"And who are you? Don't think I've ever seen you around before." McLaggen took a step toward Matthew. At this moment Matthew realized he may have let his emotions get a bit carried away, for besides being a whole head taller than he was, McLaggen was almost twice as wide and all muscle.

"Matthew, he's not worth it," Ceelee said, gripping his arm.

"Matthew... Wait, you mean The Matthew! Matthew Boot! The Squib!" McLaggen shoved Matthew so hard he fell into his seat. "They'll let anyone into Hogwarts these days! What were you going to do with that wand, Squib? Point at me? Bet it's just a toy!"

In a flash Ceelee had drawn her wand and had the tip against McLaggen's throat. He raised his hands. "Leave him alone, McLaggen," she warned.

"Or you'll what? Do me like your dad did my brother?"

"You watch your tongue." She dug the tip of the wand in deeper. The tip glowed threateningly.

"Bet she didn't tell you who her dad was, did she?" He directed this question to Matthew before lowering his eyes to look at the diminutive girl. "Did you, Celestina Carrow?"

Matthew was dumbfounded. Carrow. His mind flashed back to his brother, body and face still covered in bruises and cuts from the Carrows' punishments.

"I got up on a table during dinner and told everyone how Harry Potter had broken into Gringotts," Terry had said victoriously when his parents had asked him what had happened. "They beat me up good. Neville got it worse than me, though. Wait till you see his cheek."

Ceelee wasn't just any girl, she was the daughter of the Amycus Carrow.

"I said sod off, McLaggen," she growled fiercely.

"Alright, alright, we're going," McLaggen said. "Come on, Jerry, Byron. Nothing worth seeing here."

Ceelee took off her Holyhead Harpies robe and began putting on her silver and green stripped tie. "Gryffindors! Can't just leave well enough alone! Sorry about that. Liam McLaggen's had it in for me since the first day." She slid on her robes and looked over at Matthew who still stared at her with a mixture of disbelief and horror. "Whatever." she mumbled, stuffing her Harpies robe into her bag. "I was just looking for a quiet place to read anyway. It's too noisy here." She slung the bag, still threatening to spill its contents, over her shoulder and opened the compartment door, looking back from the passageway just a moment as she shut the door. For a second, if it existed at all, Matthew thought he saw a glimpse of hurt in her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3: The Sorting

**Chapter 2: The Sorting**

As the train began to slow, Matthew put on his robe. It was plain and black. He had a set of hand-me-down blue trimmed Ravenclaw robes in his trunk from Terry. "For when you get sorted," Terry had said, "So you don't stick out too much."

The train came to a stop in front of Hogsmeade Station. Matthew grabbed Tycho's cage where the owl slept. The sleepy owl turned his head slightly, regarding Matthew with a single half-open eye before closing it again and pretending to go back to sleep. "Oh, come on now! don't be like that."

The owl continued to doze.

"Fine!" Matthew dug into his pocket and pulled out a small pellet. "Would you like a treat?" He held the pellet between the wire bars. Tycho hooted happily and snatched the treat from Matthew's fingers. Matthew took a deep breath, straightening his robes. "Alright, let's go."

As he walked down the narrow train corridor he was slowed by a block of students who were exchanging grins and attempting to stifle giggles behind their hands. It seemed McLaggen had failed to heed Ceelee's warning and was now sporting a rather handsome pair of antlers which were making it rather difficult for him to get out of his compartment. A taller boy ducked as McLaggen's antlers swooped around into the corridor where they got stuck. He managed to dislodge himself and, finding he was now too wide to negotiate the narrow walkway, was forced to turn and shuffle down the corridor sideways shooting warning glares to anyone who dared to laugh, though this only had the effect of making everyone laugh harder.

On the platform Matthew finally took his first look at the tall towers of Hogwarts, silhouetted against the deepening indigo sky. "Firs' years over here! Firs' years!" a massive man, twice as tall as a normal human and three times as wide, waved a lantern about. It illuminated the small patch of his face that was not covered with black, bushy hair. Matthew knew Prof. Rubeus Hargrid, the instructor for The Care of Magical Creatures class, at once.

He was not sure whether he was supposed to go to Hagrid or follow the rest of the students. He felt himself being slowly swept toward a fleet of carriages by the swarming students around him when a giant hand grabbed his arm. "You too, Boot. Yer comin' with us. Yeh wouldn' want ter miss this."

Matthew followed Hagrid to the lake with a gaggle of first years in tow to where a fleet of small boats waited. Matthew noticed Izzy was very intentionally walking as far from him as possible, dragging Agnes along with her, and doing her very best to avoid his looks. "Now then, get in. Three or four to a boat."

Matthew found himself in the company of a young girl with platinum coloured plaits who, as it turned out, was afraid of water and clung to his arm from the moment they stepped into the boat. He guessed she had chosen to go with him simply because he was the oldest. "There yeh go. Yeh see now? Nothin' ter be afrai' of. Boot here 'll take care a' yeh."

There was an explosion from one of the other boats followed by the shrill screams of some first year girls and Hagrid bustled off in that direction leaving Matthew with the girl still clinging to his arm for dear life. Matthew attempted a cheerful smile, "My name is Matthew Boot. What's yours?"

"Holly Mills," the girl said shakily, looking up at him with great blue eyes. He could see her skin was very pale, probably from fear, almost as white as milk but for a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"Where are you from, Holly?"

The little girl looked as though she were terrified to answer the question.

"Never mind. It's not important. What kind of animal did you bring with you?"

Holly reached into her pocket and produced a tiny white mouse curled up, asleep, in the palm of her hand. It struck Matthew as terribly appropriate. Tycho hooted excitedly. Holly looked alarmed.

"Don't even think it or I won't let you out for a week. Sorry, he's harmless. He just likes to be a git sometimes."

The girl nodded as though Matthew's words were assurance enough.

"What is her name?"

" _His_ name," she corrected him.

"I'm sorry, what is his name?"

"I don't know. He hasn't told me. He mostly just sleeps."

"Did you get him at The Magical Menagerie?"

Holly shook her head so that her braids whipped from side to side but said nothing.

"Do you know what house you want to be in?" She shook her head again. Not Gryffindor, Matthew guessed.

A loud commotion grabbed Matthew's attention. Hagrid was carrying a young, dark haired boy by the scruff of his robes. "Hey gerrof me ya big oaf! Let me go!" the boy shouted.

"Hate to bother yeh, but ya think ya could look after this one too? He was settin' off wizzbangs in the girls' boats and put a toad on one of their heads." Hagrid said apologetically.

"She deserved it!"

Hagrid bent over, "Between you an' me if he happens ta fall in yeh can leave it to the gian' squid to bring him in."

The boy's eyes flew open wide as he glanced from Matthew to Hagrid. "You wouldn't!" Matthew smiled in a way to suggest that it was clearly out of his control and he was making no promises.

"Alrigh' in yeh get," Hagrid said, depositing the boy into the front of the boat. He gave a signal and the boats began moving on their own across the black water.

"So, what's your name?" Matthew asked.

"Hector Boranos. Who wants to know?"

"I'm Matthew Boot and this is Holly Mills."

"Matthew Boot the Squib?! Everyone was talking about you on the train. Well, at least until that Carrow girl hexed Liam McLaggen which was hilarious. She's scary that one."

Matthew sighed. "Yes, I was born without magical abilities."

Hector reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-eaten chocolate cauldron, proceeding to stuff most of it into his mouth as he continued, "Yeah, the Slytherins were saying that if you were sorted into their house they'd just lock you in the dungeon and see how long it took for anyone to notice you were gone. Or else," he mimed flicking a wand, "Cruciatus!" Holly flinched as though stung and gripped Matthews arm tighter.

"Well, I doubt I'll be sorted into Slytherin, if it's any consolation to them."

"I'm going to be in Gryffindor, where all the bravest go!"

The most obnoxious seemed more accurate to Matthew who was starting to understand why Ravenclaws were typically not too keen on Gryffindors. They passed the rest of the ride in silence but for the sound of Hector chewing on his sweets and Matthew occasionally pointing out constellations to Holly who had calmed some and was now resting her head on his shoulder.

When they stepped off the boats into the cavernous harbor they were led into a large room off of the Great Hall by Professor Flitwick. "Alright now First Years, wait here until I call you in," he squeaked in his high pitched voice. He saw Matthew, towering in the back over all the first years with Holly still attached to his arm. "Ah, Mr. Boot, your brother Terry was in my house. Congratulations on your OWLS."

"Thank you, sir." He felt his face growing hot. "Really, it was nothing."

"Nonsense! Nine OWLS in what should have only been your second year. I'm hoping we'll soon have a fine new addition to Ravenclaw House."

"Yes, sir. I hope so as well."

"Well, the staff expects great things from you," Prof. Flitwick said before launching into a speech about the Houses and the House Cup. None of which Matthew heard for he had already been feeling rather nervous; now felt like his stomach had decided to do a series of backflips without the rest of his body. It was a moment before he noticed Prof. Flitwick had stopped speaking and was peeking out the door. "I'll be back in a minute." The diminutive professor slipped out, closing the door behind him.

"What are they going to do?" one boy asked.

"I heard it was some kind of test."

"I'm not ready for a test," a skinny red headed boy covered in freckles moaned.

"You're a Weasley, maybe they'll skip the test for you. Weasley's always go to Gryffindor."

"I heard it was a dangerous challenge and they figured out what house you belonged in by how you solved it," Hector announced. "If you use your strength, you go to Gryffindor, if you use your brains you go to Ravenclaw, if you cheat you go to Slytherin, and if you fail they put you in Hufflepuff." A number of students laughed at this but a few shouted insults at him, mostly those whom Matthew suspected wanted to be in or were related to Hufflepuffs and Slytherins who did not like their houses characterized in such a way.

He felt Holly pulling on his arm. He leaned over slightly and whispered, "Don't worry, my brother told me they only make you put on a hat and it just tells you your house. It's a little raggedy but hardly scary."

"They only make you put on a hat?!" a boy who was eavesdropping on the conversation practically shouted. "That's stupid!" A number of the others nodded in agreement though they all look quite relieved that there was no test after all.

Prof. Flitwick re-entered the room. "Alright, the Sorting Ceremony is about to start. Now everyone form a line and follow me." They did as they were told. Matthew couldn't help but notice Hector was at the very front of the line.

"Now you're going to have to let go of me, Holly. It won't be a line if we're next to each other. But I'll be right here." Holly reluctantly let go and reached in her pocket for her mouse. She stroked its snowy white fur with her thumb as it continued to sleep soundly.

They followed Prof. Flitwick into the Great Hall so that they faced the other students. The Hall was so different than Matthew last remembered it. The crumbling pillars, the shattered ceiling, the curse scarred stones all appeared as though they had never been and it had all simply been a bad dream. Above them hundreds of candles floated below a starry sky. "Hey it's the Squib!" someone shouted from over at the Slytherin table.

"I didn't know the Sorting Hat appointed caretakers! Mrs. Norris better watch out, looks like Filch might be replacing her!" another shouted to a resounding round of cackles.

"It's Filch jr.!" McLaggen shouted. His antlers were noticeably absent but for a pair of slightly raised stumps where they had been. He mimed sweeping with a push broom. The Gryffindors burst out in laughter. Matthew glanced over to his sister and saw her face had turned a violent shade of red.

"Alright, students, quiet down or I shall begin deducting points," a stern but familiar voice declared from behind him. "You would not want to begin the term in the negatives would you?" Headmistress McGonagall said. The room quieted down. "Prof. Flitwick, if you would, please?"

"Yes, Headmistress." Prof. Flitwick rushed over to the stool, placing a very ragged, pointed hat upon it which began to sing its song of sorting. When it had finished the entire hall burst into applause. "Let us begin," Flitwick squeaked. "When I call your name you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." He adjusted his glasses, pulling the long roll of parchment closer that he might see it better. "Answari, Ahmed."

A brown complected boy with curly black hair nervously stepped forward, he swallowed a lump in his throat and then marched forward. He pulled on the hat with such gusto it fell over his eyes. "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat declared and Ahmed quickly took off the hat to join the cheering table on the far left.

Anthony, Adelaide was the first to be sorted into Ravenclaw followed by the first Slytherin, Atwater, Sylvia. Then came Bletchley, Poppy, a cheery girl with auburn hair framing a round, freckled face.

"Boot, Isolde," Flitwick announced.

The hat had barely touched Izzy's golden curls when it proclaimed "GRYFFINDOR!" The hall erupted into cheers as Izzy bounced over to the Gryffindor table.

"Boot, Matthew."

The hall fell silent. Matthew took a step forward. Suddenly, there was a shout from the far right table, "Hey, do you think he could fly like a real wizard if we took him up in the air with a broom and dropped him?" The table burst into jeers.

"He'd better not be sorted into our house," another shouted, "he might accidentally lock himself in the dungeon and not be able to get out!"

"We could practice curses on him!" a rather unpleasant looking girl suggested.

"Yeah, he could be our very own dueling dummy!"

"I wonder if unforgivable curses count if they are used against blood trash like Squibs!"

It seemed all the Slytherin were now shouting some rather alarming threats at Matthew, many standing and a few thrusting their fists in the air for emphasis. Matthew noticed, with some mild sense of gladness, that Ceelee was merely sitting, looking rather bored. A portly professor, who resembled a walrus almost as much as he did a man, waddled over from the staff table and began speaking quickly with the head boy and girl. Finally, he turned around.

Matthew dared a peek at the headmistress whose face was white with fury but for two rosy spots on her cheeks. "Professor Slughorn, are you unable to regain control over your house?"

"I'm sorry, Minerva - Headmistress – I'm ashamed to say it, but, after thorough discussion, I must conclude that if Mr. Boot were to be placed in Slytherin House his safety would be at risk."

"Hey, we don't want Slytherin's trash!" McLaggen shouted. "If they don't have to take him we shouldn't have to either!"

"Yeah!" came the unison shout of agreement from the Gryffindor table, but for Izzy who stared at her plate looking like she very much wished she could disappear.

"How dare you?" McGonagall shouted in a quavering voice. "Do you know nothing of what Gryffindor House stands for? If any student belongs in this house, it is Mr. Boot."

"He's no safer in Gryffindor than he is in Slytherin," McLaggen shouted.

"I have never in my life seen a more disgusting display! 50 points from Gryffindor. And another 50 points from Slytherin." Unfortunately, this had the opposite effect of what was intended; for the houses became more outraged, placing their anger on the interloper who had clearly been the cause of it. McGonagall was now being drowned out by the abuse being heaped onto Matthew.

Meanwhile a peck of blue paper airplanes was accosting Prof. Flitwick, who plucked one from the air. Matthew was able to read the contents over Flitwick's shoulder.

 _We regret to inform you that we do not wish to have Mr. Boot in Ravenclaw and ask that he please be sent back to his home where he belongs._

Prof. Flitwick appeared as though he were about to cry. "But he has achieved nine owls in only two years of private study!" he pleaded openly with his house. "Think of all the knowledge he could add, the spells he could create, the mysteries he could solve. One does not have to be a great magic user to make great contributions to the Wizarding World!"

Another set of blue notes flew over to Prof. Flitwick, pecking at him. He opened one and Matthew read:

 _While we respect Mr. Boot's accomplishment in obtaining nine OWLS, we humbly request he not be placed in our house. Hogwarts is, by definition, a school for Witches and Wizards and he is clearly not a wizard. Therefore, we suggest he be sent back home where he belongs for his own safety._

Matthew was crestfallen. He had only ever dreamed of being in Ravenclaw. He had worked so hard and studied so many hours. And now they had rejected him. His eyes burned. Just then he felt a small hand in his. He looked down to see Holly standing beside him.

"Enough!" shouted Prof. Sprout, her voice magically amplified so that it might be heard over the din. "We'll take him!" There was an audible groan from the Hufflepuff table but no further objection.

"Pomona!" Flitwick cried out with a rapture as though she had just saved his life.

"I'm not doing it as a favor to you. This boy has earned his place in Hogwarts and by Merlin's Beard he is going to find his place here. If these other students cannot see his worth than that is just their loss and our gain. Matthew Boot. HUFFLEPUFF!" she shouted.

Stunned, Matthew made his way to Hufflepuff where a vaguely familiar looking blond boy with a mess of freckles shook his hand, "Donald MacMillan, Prefect for Hufflepuff. Glad to have you aboard." Donald moved over a bit to make room for Matthew to sit.

But Matthew knew he was not glad. No one was glad to have him. That point had been made abundantly clear. He did not belong at Hogwarts. He wanted more than anything to grab his trunk and go home, but instead he sat down at the table sullenly.

The Great Hall quieted almost instantly, just in time for Hector to be sorted into Gryffindor. Izzy openly wept when Agnes was sorted into Slytherin. Matthew noticed Holly sitting with Ravenclaw. It was strange, he could not remember her name being called. He sat through the feast, barely touching his food while those around him chattered away. "What are you sick or something?" Donald asked, noticing Matthews empty plate.

"Donald, you cannot be serious," a girl sitting across from Matthew said. "If I had just had that happen to me I don't think I would eat for a week. Shoshanna Cohen, 4th year." She stretched out her hand over a particularly large roast turkey.

"It's no worse than Harry Potter got that year he said You-Know-Who had come back. My cousin told me so. And you know, he proved them all wrong and went on to create Dumbledore's Army."

"Donald's cousin is Ernie MacMillan, he fought alongside Harry Potter in the Battle of Hogwarts." So that was why Donald looked so familiar.

"Took on a mess of Death Eaters singlehandedly!" he said, waving his fork around as though it were a wand. Shoshanna shot him a hard look. "Least that's how some tells it," he said, sinking back into his chair.

"You mean how you tell it," Shoshanna corrected him. "Anyway, we may not all seem it, but we are glad to have you with us, Matthew Boot. It's rare we get someone with the knowledge to put Ravenclaw to shame. I think you'll find, given your abilities, Hufflepuff is the best house for you."

"What do you mean by that?" Matthew asked.

"I think she means cause Hufflepuffs work together to accomplish our goals, mate." a voice from behind him said. "Tip Walker, I think we're the same year. You're technically third, right?" a boy with brown, spiky hair and a thick Australian accent said.

"Yes," Matthew said, shaking the proffered hand.

"No worries, sorting hat wanted to make me a Gryffindor but I took one look at that McLaggen bloke and begged anywhere but there. Best choice I coulda made. Here, budge up." Matthew moved over to make room for Tip who tossed a glance at the rest of the table who were still casting accusing glances at Matthew. "Don't worry, they'll come round in time."

"Not to be rude, but why would do you want to talk to me? I'm a squib."

"I ain't never seen McGonagall gunnin' for someone so hard before. Said you belonged in Gryffindor. Figured she was either your auntie or there was somethin' she knows that we don't," Tip said.

"Well I can tell you she's not my auntie."

"There ya go, then."

"And did you see Prof. Flitwick?" Shoshanna said. "He almost cried when his house wouldn't take you. Maybe you can't do the magic, but we can, and you can do the theory. It's about time Hufflepuff was known for creating spells."

Suddenly, Matthew felt hungry after all. In fact, he was quite famished. He tore a leg from the turkey and began to eat.

"Before we end the feast," McGonagall said. "I have a few words I wish to say. First: Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"Second: Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes."

Matthew smirked. "Well that's easy enough." Shoshanna smiled. Donald laughed.

"Third: I invite you all to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Professor Liberta Jones." McGonagall indicated to a silver haired woman with a straight jaw and blazing blue eyes. Prof. Jones waved. "Professor Jones has served as an Auror for almost fifteen years and we are very grateful she has agreed to help us out this year while Prof. Takahata is on sabbatical studying Ohni in Japan."

"I wonder why they brought her in?" Donald mused aloud.

"Fourth: First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song." McGonagall flicked her wand and a large page of sheet music appeared which the students did their best to follow along. "Alright, now everybody, off to bed," McGonagall said as the last notes faded from the air.


	4. Chapter 4: Carrows and Keepers

**Chapter 4: Carrows and Keepers**

Matthew rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched before looking down at the thick yellow and black patchwork quilt emblazoned with a badger that some unfortunate artist had valiantly attempted to make appear noble. Some part of him had hoped it was all a dream and he would awaken yesterday morning in his own bed with its deep blue covers.

"Oi! You're up." Donald said, with a smile, from the window where he seemed to be holding... something... from the window.

Matthew shook his head, trying to dispel the fog out that the scene before him would make sense. He squinted at Donald in confusion. Sliding on his glasses, he asked "Aren't you supposed to be in a different room?" Though now that he could more clearly see he had a few more pressing questions such as: Were those feet in Donald's hands? and Why was he holding them out the window?

The feet seemed to struggle to free themselves of Donald's grip around their ankles. "Hey, since you're up do you think you could give me a hand?" Donald's smile appeared strained as he fought to keep his hold on the wayward feet.

Matthew threw off the covers. "Sure. What's going on?"

"Tip's trying sneak out again," Donald explained as Matthew grabbed one of Tip's slender ankles, allowing Donald to double up his hold on the other and together they dragged the diminutive boy back into the room holding a broom stick in one hand and what appeared to be a banana cream pie in the other.

"Oh come off it, Donny! I'm just having a lend of McLaggen is all. I'd have been back in time for brekkie."

"Do you want to get detention before you even get to your first class? It's not Prof. Takahata anymore; it's that Auror, Jones, that's Head of Gryffindor now."

"Oh yeah..." Tip's mind already appeared to be whirring with a new plot. "Do you think she might fancy a piece of pie as well?"

"Out," Donald pointed to the door. Tip sulked out as Matthew glanced at the enticing pastry. Donald eyed the pie dubiously before turning to Matthew. "Don't eat that." Donald made the pie vanish before Matthew's eyes.

"What was it?"

"Canary Cream Pie."

"How could you tell?"

"He's been trying to perfect it since last May. But either he didn't get the recipe right or it was never meant to be served in such large doses. Turned half of Hufflepuff into giant canaries for a week before Madam Pomfrey was able to reverse it. I still occasionally find feathers in my hair. He's been with his mum all summer so I doubt he's had a chance to work on it during the break."

Matthew thought better of asking why but began pulling on his robes. "Does that sort of thing happen often?" he asked.

"About twice a week. He likes to stir the pot between Slytherin and Gryffindor and then watch the sparks fly. I'm half tempted to just start sleeping here, it'd be easier. Maybe a caterwauling charm on the windows... Anyway, since you're up, let me show you around. That is, unless you want to take the tour with the first years later?" Matthew shook his head.

Donald led the way through the door with Matthew following behind into the squat round room that was, in color and shape, reminiscent of a beehive. "You saw the Common Room yesterday. Morning Shosh." He waved to a girl who was sunk deeply into a squashy, yellow, round armchair with black trim. Her long legs were drawn up onto the seat. She must have been wearing shorts or a skirt underneath her robes for her knobby knees were completely exposed. Her face was obscured by a large blue book labelled Arithmancy but Matthew recognized the long, dishwater blond hair of the girl he had met last night. She tossed off a wave in the direction of Donald's voice.

Matthew had seen the Common Room yesterday, but he hadn't really looked at it as he was now. He had paid attention to very little last night but the sense of dejection he felt and had wanted nothing more to go straight to bed, cover his head with the quilt, and never show his face again. In the morning light the room was actually quite homey.

He glanced up at the gigantic portrait of Helga Hufflepuff that hung above the mantle, holding her little, two-handled golden cup as though in a toast to her students. She winked at Matthew. Cactus limbs and vine tendrils waved at Matthew. Disconcerted, he waved back, not wanting to seem rude. They left through the round entry door and proceeded down a sloping, earthy passage.

As they emerged from the tunnel, Donald turned to Matthew, "Oh, you can call me Donny if you like. Everyone does. Well, except for Shosh." They turned the corner to head up the stairs toward the Great Hall. "Would you like to have breakfast first?"

"Sure." Matthew nodded.

They entered the great hall where Tip, his previously spiky hair now combed flat and parted to the side, was already at the table, munching on a piece of toast and telling stories to a captivated audience of first years, most of whom were taller than he was. "Then we went to Ayers rock and repelled from off the very top of it."

"Morning, Tip," Matthew said, as though the earlier events of the day hadn't happened.

"Mornin', Matt. Mornin', Donny. Anyway, so after that..." Tip continued his tale unabated, explaining what repelling was, leaving Matthew to wonder why anyone would want to run down the side of a perfectly good cliff.

Donald whispered to Matthew as they took their seats near the other end of the table, "Tip's mum is a muggle stunt woman for an Australian film company and his dad's a wizard with the Dept. for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures: Beast Division. Apparently, they met when someone illegally imported a giant starfish into England and it turned out to be a Bunyip at rest. Was a nightmare to get it out of the Thames. But I guess the quiet life of the muggle wife of a wizard was too dull for her. Tip spends summers with her and winters with his dad in London. Always comes back with wild stories."

Matthew tucked into a plate of drippy eggs as Donald continued, pointing a fork at Matthew, "So, you really passed nine OWLS, then? Which ones?"

Matthew thought for a moment, a golden bite of egg hanging limply from his fork. "Potions, History of Magic, Arithmancy, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Muggle Studies, Astronomy, Herbology and the Study of Ancient Runes. I almost got Divination as well, but they had crystal balls for the practical application. If it had been Tarot cards or Dream Interpretation I might have had a real chance."

Donald dropped his fork. "Wait, you mean to tell me you did the practical portions of the exams as well as the written?"

"Yeah, otherwise I'd have twelve."

"How in the world did you pass Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"It was really a bit luck. They gave me a Kappa and a Boggart to defeat. And you know how Kappa's are unfailingly polite," From the blank stare he was receiving from the prefect, Donald did not know. "Well, all I had to do was bow to him and he bowed back and emptied the water out of the dish in his head which left him unable to move until I filled it. Anyway, needless to say, if I ever visit the pond below the Buddhist temple in Hata in the Osaka prefecture, I have a friend who'll be happy to show me around."

"But how did you beat the Boggart?"

"That was the luck part. You see, I happen to be most afraid of public speaking, you know. And there was really nothing the boggart could do to make himself scary."

Donald started laughing. "What did he do?"

"He turned himself into a microphone stand. I just walked right by him and surrounded the case with a circle of blessed salt so he couldn't get back in," Matthew laughed. "The examiner said it was the fastest he had ever seen a boggart defeated."

"I would have never thought to just walk past him and use salt."

"I didn't have much of a choice, did I? Muggles have been figuring out non-magical ways to combat these creatures for years. I mean, their techniques aren't always the best or the most elegant but they work... most of the time. I wouldn't listen to them on vampires. Most of the practicals really only require study, not magic."

"You said one of your OWLS is in Arithmancy, right?" Matthew nodded. "Shosh is gonna love you. That's her favorite subject."

"I thought I saw her reading an Arithmancy book."

"Can't make heads or tails of it myself, but she's mental for it." He changed the pitch of his voice in a bad imitation of a girl, "The only true way to do Arithmancy is with the Torah in its original Hebrew, anything else is just forcing predictions where they don't exist and wishful thinking."

"Well, it is." A voice from behind Donald cause him to shrink in his seat, his cheeks a striking shade of pink. "Good morning, Matthew. Or do you prefer Matt?" Shoshanna said as she took her seat next to Donald, helping herself to his cinnamon roll.

"Either is fine."

"Perhaps Matty, then," she said, taking a bite of the cinnamon roll. Matthew glared at her but said nothing, getting the sense that an objection would only encourage her. "You were talking about Arithmancy?"

"Yeah, it was one of Matt's OWLS," Donald supplied, still glaring ruefully after the quickly disappearing cinnamon roll.

"You achieved an Outstanding in Arithmancy?"

"Yeah," Matthew said, cutting a piece of bacon.

"Do you believe in the ancient text standard, then?"

"It's complicated, isn't it? If we are to believe that fate or a god or gods inspired the particular alphanumerical combinations that are used to determine arithmetical predictions, then would it not make sense that fate could also use modern writers to produce prophetic texts? I mean, when you think about it, all texts were once modern." He and Shoshanna quickly fell into a deep discussion of Arithmetical theories and Matthew was beginning to feel a good deal better when suddenly he was doused by a shower of cold liquid.

"Oops! Sorry, Squib!" a mocking voice laughed. Matthew, covered in a freezing blanket of orange juice, turned to see a tall, thin boy with brown hair and tanned skin whom he recognized as one of McLaggen's lackeys from the train.

"You'd better be, Wycliffe!" Shoshanna shouted after him. "Here," Shoshanna waved her wand, " _Scourgify_."

Matthew was instantly dry. The trio glared over at the Gryffindor table where Wycliffe was being greeted by his fellows with great guffaws and pats on the back. But when he sat down he was immediately up again, a plate of eggs dripping from the seat of his robes. Wycliffe reached behind himself and felt the mess, raising before his eyes hands covered in golden glop. Furious, he looked over at the Hufflepuff table where now Donald, Matthew, and Shoshanna were trying to hide their giggles while, unnoticed by all but Matthew, Izzy smiled slyly as she hid her wand.

"I have to go. I have Ancient Runes right after breakfast, and I want to finish reading the chapter," Shoshanna said, snatching the cinnamon roll Donald had just put on his plate and taking a bite from it as she got up to leave. She returned it back to his plate as though it were nothing.

"We should go as well if we want to get through most of the school before classes," Donald said, jabbing a finger in disgust at the partially eaten roll.

Donald took him all the way from the Divination tower to the Potions room. As they turned down a corridor into a large hallway Donald threw out his arm to stop Matthew. "What is it?" Matthew asked.

"It's the Slytherins... and her."

Matthew had been so preoccupied with trying to memorize the rooms and corridors and various secret passageways and false steps he had not even noticed the slight, thin-faced girl from the train entering from the opposite direction. She was dressed in her black robes with their emerald trim, her eyes were hard, glaring at no one in particular. A raven sat, perched upon her shoulder. Behind her, a group of Slytherins walked.

In a single, fluid motion, she crossed her hands in front of her with two fingers on each hand pointed up and swung them outward. The Slytherins fanned out to either side of her like a pair of great black wings, taking up the entire hallway, forcing other students to flatten themselves against walls as they passed. A tall, sallow looking boy who could not have been younger than a 5th year, gnashed his teeth at a young girl who was trying very hard to disappear into the wall. He laughed as she trembled in fear.

"Ceelee Carrow," Donald whispered. "Her dad was the Death Eater, Amycus Carrow. Rumor has it he taught her everything he knows about the Dark Arts." He shuddered involuntarily as he said the name. "They say she uses that raven to communicate with her father in Azkaban. Those are the children of the Death Eaters following her."

From behind them Matthew felt a shove and McLaggen broke through, determination in his blue eyes. He was followed by his gang. He strode with purpose, meeting Ceelee halfway down the hall. Both groups stopped as their leaders stared each other down.

"Move it, Carrow!" McLaggen ordered. The Slytherins hurled some rather unpleasant insults, but Ceelee just smiled in a way that sent a shiver down Matthew's spine before she stepped aside and made a sweeping gesture with both arms to let McLaggen pass. There was such a superior look in her eyes it was clear that even though she had conceded, she had won.

"What was that all about?" Matthew whispered to Donald as the Slytherins exited through the hall Matthew and Donald had just come.

"Those two do nothing but fight, ever since the moment her name was called during the sorting."

"Why? I mean I get that she is a Carrow and all."

"Your brother was Terry Boot, right? I'm sure he told you some of what happened?"

"He doesn't like to talk about it.

"I don't blame him. He really took it hard. But, you know, he never stopped fighting them. I still remember the day he jumped up on the table and announced to everyone that Harry Potter had broken into Gringott's and escaped on a dragon. The Carrows had to pull him down to make him stop, and even then they had to _silencio_ him. My cousin, Ernie, found him later, crumpled up besides the barrels by the Hufflepuff entryway. He was so bad off he couldn't even walk up the steps so he had just gone down as far as he could to get away from them. Ernie and I helped get him to Madam Pomfrey."

"He never told me."

"Yeah, but the McLaggen's got it the worst. Apparently, there is some bad blood between the McLaggen family and You Know Who - I don't know what it's about exactly. Anyway, you know how the NEWTs were cancelled the year Dumbledore died? Well a lot of the 7th years were told they could come back to take their NEWTs. A lot of them didn't, but Cormac McLaggen did. Perhaps he just wanted to keep an eye on Liam, who was starting that year; you know, make sure he was settled in. Yeah, I know Liam looks big, but he's only a 4th year like Shosh. Well, when they got to Hogwarts the Carrows wouldn't let the NEWT students leave. They said they weren't properly educated in the Dark Arts and would need to repeat the year. I'm sure you know what they were doing to first years in their Dark Arts classes."

Matthew nodded. He had a sick feeling in his stomach that told him he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear the rest of the story.

"I was a second year at the time so they didn't do quite so much to us, but Shosh told me what happened to McLaggen. In the four years I've known her it was the only time I've seen her cry. They brought the first years in to a joint Slytherin-Gryffindor Dark Arts class and paired them up so - so the 7th years could practice the Cruciatus curse. I mean, no one wanted to do it. Most of the time they'd just make a halfhearted attempt and the first years would put on a good show like they were dying. Shosh said it only hurt a little when they made Ernie do her, but I think she might have lied to spare him."

Donny grimaced a moment, then continued. "It really messed Ernie up to do it. Well, all of them really, except the Slytherins, and even some of them. You'd see the 7th years coming out of class looking shell-shocked. Ernie said he found Draco Malfoy in the toilet crying after one lesson, looked like he had been sick. When Amycus Carrow realized Liam was Cormac's brother he teamed them together. Of course Cormac wouldn't do it, so Carrow Imperiused him. I don't know how but he managed to shake it off. So Carrow got his sister and they both used the Imperious Curse on him and that time he couldn't shake it off. They forced him to torture his brother over and over for an hour. Liam spent a week in the hospital ward. Cormac was never right after that. I don't think anyone could be. He joined the DA in the Room of Requirement once Liam was out of the hospital, he and Liam both. There wasn't much choice. I think the Carrows might have killed Liam if they found out Cormac had disappeared."

"But that wasn't her fault, she wasn't even at Hogwarts."

"I don't think it matters. Some wounds just don't heal. And it's not as though the apple has fallen far from the tree. Her mother was a Death Eater too, Evelyn Rosier Carrow, twin sister of Evan Rosier. Everyone knew she was at the Battle of Hogwarts but Ceelee swore in front of the Wizangamot that her mother was at home with her and her older sister, Hestia. I think she would've said her sister, Flora, had been home too if Cormac McLaggen, himself, hadn't brought her down in the Great Hall. Since the Ministry could never prove their case they had to let her mother and sister go. I've heard they harbor Death Eaters at their house."

"Still, that's not especially her fault. It'd be tough to lose your dad and your mum in one day."

"I don't know why you're so keen to defend her. You see her put a hex on someone, you'll understand. She's scary. I don't much like Liam, he's a bully on his best day, but at least he has the guts to stand up to her." Donald stopped to look at a flyer that had just been posted on the wall. "Hey, the first meeting of the Knight's Club is on Friday."

"The Knight's Club?"

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't have heard of it. It's like Dumbledore's Army but only for boys. Here, let me show you." He pulled Matthew over to the trophy case where a large plaque featuring a metal casting of a knight's breastplate and helmet was crowned by the words: Hogwarts Knight's Club 1759. To either side were two small metal plates lined one underneath the other. From left to right they read: Chair: Lesperatus Abbott; Co-Chair: Gavin McLaggen; Secretary: Aodh MacMillan; Treasurer; David Makehay.

"They found the plaque when they were cleaning up the mess after the Battle of Hogwarts. They've found a lot of strange things since the battle. It's as though the battle triggered something in the school. Doors that used to go into walls now go into corridors no one's ever seen before. Old secret passages have disappeared and new ones have appeared. Strange objects have been found. Like there was a staircase on the third floor that used to lead into a wall, but now it leads to a door that has a big room behind it. But, get this, the only thing they found in the room was a blue velvet bag, covered in yellow stars, sitting in the middle of the room."

"What's in the bag?"

"A puzzle. Probably at least a meter or two long and wide. But all the pieces look almost exactly the same and have the same pattern so it's pretty much impossible to put together. And if you try to use magic the whole thing turns white. You can't remove it from the room either or it will disappear and if you leave and come back it will have returned itself to the bag. Shosh sometimes likes to waste a few hours trying to put it together but she always has to give it up."

"Aren't there any clues?"

"Sure, but they don't make any sense. 'I lie where you begin...' or some such rubbish. I don't remember it all. Anyway, when they found the Knight's Club plaque a couple of the boys thought it would be fun to start it back up. Most of us are members. I'll say, it's a fair lot easier to practice without worrying about any girls around."

"Don't the girls object?"

"They're free to start their own club if they like, but most of them have kept with the DA."

"So who's the leader of this Knight's Club?"

Donald toed at the ground, clearly uncomfortable. "Well... McLaggen. But it's not as bad as it sounds," he rushed the last part.

"I get the sense it would not especially matter how bad it sounds." Matthew was almost certain McLaggen would not be keen to allow a squib into the club, not that he wasn't glad to have an excuse not to have to endure McLaggen one more minute than he had to.

Donald turned red. "No, I suppose not."

Matthew pretended to look at a flyer on the wall but his attention was captured by the one below it:

 **Gryffindor Quidditch Tryouts Next Week  
** _See Dennis Creevey for details_

"Are you going to try out?" Matthew asked.

"Me? No. I'm terrible on a broom. I prefer to keep both feet on the ground if I can. Oh! If you don't get a move on now you'll be late for your first class. I'll see you in the Common Room later." Donald hurried off down the hall toward the main entryway for Care of Magical Creatures while Matthew turned and made his way toward Transfiguration.

Despite his optimism that the worst was behind him, he quickly found his presence as unwelcome by the professors as it was with the students. Prof. Daphne Pinieos had not a clue what to do with him for the hour, finally suggesting he sit in the corner and watch as the other students practiced turning ladybugs into pincushions. He managed to amuse himself by watching Tip's pincushion try to skitter away from him across the table. A pretty black girl named Deborah Johnson ran around trying to catch her pincushion which was attempting to fly away. Most of the other students had only succeeded in creating over-inflated ladybugs by the end of class.

Prof. Trelawney's class was as bad as her reputation implied it would be. He found it rather irritating that she saw the Grim in Midge Owen's tea leaves when it was quite clear it was a duck. He had Arithmancy with the Gryffindors who took a particular delight in throwing things at his back for the entire class. He got up for lunch, shaking the wads of parchment from his cloak and, grabbing a pastie, he made his way outside toward the Quidditch pitch.

He climbed to the top of the center ring of the goal posts and hung upside-down by his knees from it. He felt far more comfortable here; away from everyone and everything. He checked his watch, still plenty of time before Care of Magical Creatures, a joint class with Slytherin. Hagrid might not have the best reputation as a teacher (he had heard a litany of complaints from Terry about some things called Blast-Ended Skrewts in his brother's 4th year) but he would, at least, give Matthew a fair shake.

"Hey! Hey Squib!"

Matthew sat up in the ring to see who had called him. It was Wycliffe, holding a broomstick and a quaffle and accompanied by two girls.

"Yeah, you, Squib! Get down here! You're blocking the goals."

Matthew made no move to climb down, only leaned back over so he was hanging by his knees again.

"Hey, get down or I'll take you down." Wycliffe waved the broom in what Matthew guessed was supposed to be a threatening manner.

"Cut it out, Byron." A beautiful girl with long flowing red hair slapped Wycliffe playfully on the chest. "We can just use the other side."

"Nah, I won't let this worthless Squib stop me. Hey Squib! Think fast!"

The quaffle went screaming through the air, faster than it could have been thrown without magical assistance. Matthew barely even moved, just straightening up enough to reach a fist up to block the quaffle. The ball bounced off his arm back to where it had come.

"Oh you think you're so hot! Well, let's see how you do against a real chaser."

"Byron, stop!" the girl cried. But it was too late, Wycliffe had mounted his broom and was speeding toward the goal. He slammed the quaffle at the ring where Matthew now sat. Matthew deflected it easily.

"Hey!" Wycliffe tried again, but Matthew, now quite in his element, swung around the ring and used the centripetal force to send the quaffle flying.

"Hey, Squib!" A tall, blond boy Matthew thought he recognized from the common room last night called from below where he stood with the quaffle. "Think fast!" He hurled the quaffle at one of the lower hoops. Matthew dove, catching the crown of the ring in both hands and swinging so that his foot contacted the quaffle sending it flying through the opposite goal. He used the force of the flip to propel himself back onto the post of the tallest goal and quickly climbed back up it, as fast as if he had been running at full tilt. He looked around, seeing even Wycliffe's mouth hanging open wide enough for a snitch to fly in.

Below, the blond boy was also staring, mouth agape, but the corners were turned up in delight. "Hey Squib! Boot, isn't it? Get down here," he called. "I want to talk to you."

Matthew slid down the pole where the young man greeted him, his palm out for a handshake. "Declan O'Conner, Captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. You think you could do that again?"

Matthew gave him a look as though Declan had asked whether he could add two and two. "Yeah. Of course I can."

"Let's see. Wycliffe, make yourself useful and fetch that quaffle."

Declan mounted his broom and threw a few more shots at Matthew, all of which Matthew easily blocked including a rather difficult combination from Declan and Wycliffe in which he had to cross all three posts, from lowest to the second lowest on the other side before returning to the top ring. It was like flying. He no longer thought of the disastrous sorting, being forced to sit and watch from the corner, the threats and the insults - no, he was where he belonged.

He flew from the tallest hoop to the second tallest and then across to the shortest, swinging diagonally from hoop to post to hoop and then around in time to block the quaffle and then back up to the tallest goal to block a shot from Wycliffe who had dropped his arrogant attitude and was now just enjoying the challenge of it all. He actually whooped when Matthew made the block.

Declan once more threw the quaffle to the lowest ring and Matthew easily repeated the earlier maneuver, sending the quaffle flying through the opposite goal post. Cheers and shouts from the ground rewarded him. He glanced down see a crowd of students, mostly Hufflepuffs of his own class, as well as a few Slytherins, gathered at the edge of the field watching their sport. A couple of the Slytherins were just standing, attempting not to look interested. One, in particular, merely stood with her arms crossed.

As Matthew's eyes focused on her narrow figure, Ceelee raised a hand to her mouth and shouted, "Oi! Squib! You'll be late for class!" Matthew checked his watch. She was right, they only had maybe two minutes before class started.

Declan stopped his broom at the tallest hoop where Matthew stood. "Want a ride down?"

"No, thanks," Matthew said.

"Meet you at the bottom then," Declan said, flying off. He and Wycliffe high-fived in the air, inter-house competition momentarily forgotten in the thrill of the sport. "Good flying."

Matthew hooked his leg around the post and slid down. Wycliffe and Declan landed next to him.

"Please tell me you're trying out for Keeper," Declan said.

"He'd better," Wycliffe said. He ran an arm over his sweat soaked brow, causing his brown hair to stick even more than it had. "Next time I won't go so easy on you, Squib."

"I'm not sure I'm allowed. Don't you have to have a broom?"

Declan pondered this a moment. "I don't think it is explicitly in the rules. It's sort of just assumed. But you're trying out even if I have to bewitch a broom myself. I need the best possible team if we're going to have any hope of winning the cup. Where did you learn how to do that?"

"I've been in gymnastics classes for as long as I can remember. My parents thought it would be a good way to make muggle friends... you know, just in case. Coach said I could be an Olympian if I kept it up."

"Well, I don't know what gymnastics or Olympians are; but whatever they are, keep at them. I've got high hopes for you." Declan gave Matthew a slap on the back. "See you at supper. We've got a lot to talk about. We're finally going to give Creevey a run for his money." Declan and Wycliffe walked off toward the castle talking rather loudly of their individual teams and whose would come out on top.

For the first time in two days Matthew felt good. That was, until he saw Ceelee leaning against a tree, wearing a sarcastic smile, a pocket watch swinging from a chain in front of her. "Tick tock, Squib."

"Merlin's beard! I'm late!" He rushed to pick up his bag and books from where he left them but found they were nowhere to be seen.

"Looking for these?" Ceelee said, holding up the bag in one hand as she tucked the watch back into her pocket.

"Yes! Give them back." He approached where she stood as if to take them but she pulled her wand on him, backing up slightly.

"Get back. First you have to do me a little favor."

Matthew was in no mood for games, he was already late and he certainly wasn't keen to be owing anyone any favors, particularly a Slytherin.

"Aren't you going to be late, too?"

"He expects _me_ to be late."

"Fine, what do I have to do?"

"Promise me that you'll wipe that smug smile off of that insufferable prat Jonas Smith's face in tryouts." She tossed the bag to Matthew. "I can't stand him."

Matthew smiled as he caught it in both hands, "You can count on it."

"Let's go, then. But don't follow too close. I don't want people to think I waited for you."

"Wouldn't dream of it."


	5. Chapter 5: Calygreyhounds and Cockatrice

**Chapter 5: Calygreyhounds and Cockatrices**

As they approached Hagrid's cabin Matthew found himself suddenly transported back to the burned out hut he had hidden among the ruins of not quite three years ago. He glanced over at the wood, half expecting to see glowing eyes staring out of the darkness at him. But there were none.

"Didn't I tell you not to walk so close?" Ceelee admonished him.

Matthew fell back a few meters "Sorry."

The sound of loud, otherworldly baying caused Matthew to jump, rushing to catch up with Ceelee.

"What? It's just Fang. His bark is worse than his bite."

"If that's his bark you'll forgive me if I don't find that reassuring."

A massive beast of a dog came bounding through the trees leveling Ceelee who struggled in vain against the monster's giant tongue, "Come on, Fang! Off! Get off me!" Finally she was able to wrangle Hargid's boarhound enough to get into a sitting position, tousling the dogs floppy ears and face.

Matthew was stunned for a moment but then broke out laughing.

"Well, don't just stand there! Get this brute off of me."

Matthew grabbed Fang's collar, no longer even remotely afraid. Fang attempted to lunge for Ceelee again, nearly taking Matthew with him, but Matthew held fast. Ceelee stood, brushing off her robes, "Every single time."

"If people saw that maybe they'd be less afraid of you."

"Why do you think I'm always late?" Ceelee said, walking quickly ahead of him.

Matthew hurried to catch up, his progress impeded by Fang who seemed to have decided he would prefer a leisurely stroll now that his affections had been thwarted. "You know, you don't have to act so tough all the time," he called ahead.

"Yes, I do." Ceelee said without looking back.

Matthew could hear Hagrid's voice booming a greeting of welcome to the students. Matthew attempted to sneak in among the others but the moment the other Hufflepuffs saw him they broke out into cries of praise.

"That was aces!" Tip declared, slapping Matthew on the back.

"How did you do that?" Trudy Waterford cried.

"I've never seen anything like it," Deborah Johnson said. "And that's saying something."

"He looked like a monkey in the zoo," a Slytherin girl interjected snidely.

A Slytherin boy began making monkey noises.

The girl piped up again, "Hey monkey want a banana?" She mimed peeling her fingers like a banana until only a rather rude gesture remained.

"Put a sock in it Bulstrode, he didn't do anything to you!" Deborah said.

"Who said I was talkin' to him?"

There was an audible gasp.

"Ah hate ter do this firs' class 'o the year," Hagrid spoke, his voice booming over the crowd, "bu' 10 points from Slytherin."

Bulstrode gaped, "But... but... I didn't say I meant her!"

"Stuff it, Gwen, before you cost us another 10 points." Ceelee's commanding voice shut the Slytherin girl's mouth. Matthew had not seen Ceelee join the crowd, but there she was, standing among the Slytherins as though she had always been there.

"Anyway," Hargid said, looking to Matthew. "That was a righ' fine show yeh put on there. Gave Wycliffe a run for his money din' ya?" He turned to face the rest of the class, beaming as though it were Christmas morning and he had a particularly wonderful gift to give. Matthew had been warned of this look, particularly if it were followed by the words: "I've got a special treat for yeh". The treat was usually becoming better acquainted with Madam Pomfrey.

"Alrigh' class. Now ah've got a special treat for yeh this year..."

Matthew took a last, loving look at his original fingers.

"Ah've bin talkin' with some of me friends, yeh know, fellow magical creatures enthusiasts an' all, an' anyway I asked 'em if they migh' want ter come in an mebbe tell yeh all a littl' abou' what they do and teach yeh all abou' some of the more uncommon beasties we work with."

Midge Owens looked like she might break out in tears of sheer joy.

"Our first guest will arrive in abou' a month er so. 'E wanted to be here earlier but he's been held up in Africa."

"Ooo Africa!" Midge squealed, bouncing up and down on her toes, causing her light brown ringlets to bounce around her round face like springs.

"So until then we're gonna be workin' on a few creatures yeh may not have heard of." He reached into a crate and pulled out a strange creature about the size of a bear cub with the head of a wildcat kitten attached to a tawny colored body with white spots like a fawn. It mewled plaintively, wrapping the talons of its eagle like forelegs around Hagrid's giant finger and vainly attempting to bring the hooves of its hind legs up into his hands so they were not hanging in midair with its waggling oxtail. On its head were two tiny horns just peaking out of twin tassels of fur. "Now then, who can tell me wha' this is?"

Midge Owens's hand shot up but not as quickly as Matthew's.

"Boot. Give it yer best shot."

"It's a Calygreyhound, isn't it?"

Midge pouted, stomping her heel into the ground. Matthew guessed he had taken her answer.

"That's exactly right! 10 points to Hufflepuff. Now does anyone know where the Calygreyhound is native to? Miss Owens?"  
This time Midge had beaten Matthew.

"The only known habitat for Calygreyhounds is in Oxford, England."

"Very good, 10 more points to Hufflepuff. Now, we just happen to have had a mother Calygreyhound tha' was injured by a poacher so ah've been nursin' her and the cubs back ter health afore we release 'em back into the wild." The calygreyhound cub now had Hagrid's finger firmly in its jaw. "Now, as yeh can see the cubs like teh play a bi' rough bu' they don't mean any harm. Its the momma you'll have ter be careful of. Calygreyhounds are classified as an endangered magical species and are often hunted for their antlers which possess magical properties that can be used to make speed potions."

"Like the sleipner potion?" a Slytherin asked.

"Yes, among others."

Tip elbowed Matthew in the ribs and whispered, "What's the sleipner potion?"

"It's a potion used to make animals and people run faster. It's a banned substance in competitions." Matthew whispered back.

"Now, if you'll all follow me, I'll introduce you ta tha momma."

They followed behind, Matthew and Midge both fighting their way to the front of the class to get a better view. Matthew had never even dared to dream of seeing a Calygreyhound in real life. He supposed Midge hadn't either. They stopped in front of a penned in area at the back of which was a stall filled with hay. Midge gasped. Lying on the hay, a large bandage on her hip, lay the mother nursing two cubs. Hagrid let the squealing cub he had been holding down into the pen. It ran back to its mother, tripping on its own talons and rolling into the hay before squirming its way back onto its feet and joining its siblings. The mother regarded the students with boastful yellow eyes encircled in black. She was a grand, majestic creature, larger than an ox but thin with the build of a deer. Her fur was tawny turning to dun at the head, legs, and tail, excepting her underside which was a snowy white. Her ears were deerlike, with black tips extending the end bringing to mind a caracal. From its head a large rack of antlers sprouted. The black tuft on her ox-like tail whipped slowly back and forth and she stretched her massive talons. Matthew wagered she could easily crush a normal person's head with one of those.

"Because female Calygreyhounds can grow antlers tha same as tha males poachers often prefer to hunt them when they are nursing, the cowards. Just kill them, cut off the rack, and leave the babies to starve. This one prolly would have been done for if my old friend Newt Scamander hadn't been in the area studyin' them."

"Newt Scamander." Midge breathed.

"Wouldna 'ave wanted to be that poacher, no sir. But ya know, Newt's gettin' on in years and didn' reckon he could handle three cubs an' their mother. So he wondered if I might be able ta help. Course I said yes. An' here we are. These cubs are jus' old enough to start weanin' bu' momma can't catch food in her current state so it's gonna be up to you all to help. I'll be dividin' you into three groups, one for each cub. You'll be in charge of feedin' them and takin' 'em for walks. Now if any of yeh wan' ter come by on weekends ta help, you're more'n welcome."

Hagrid divided them into groups. Matthew found himself grouped with Tip, an unlikely looking Slytherin named Higgins, Deborah Johnson, a Hufflepuff named Gerry Dartford, and another Slytherin, with black hair and sallow skin he knew as Andy Greengrass, Agnes's older brother. He raised a hand in vague greeting to Andy, who sullenly returned the greeting. Hagrid gleefully brought out their cub. She was a darker hue than her siblings.

"Now, who'd like to walk her first?" Everyone's hand shot up excepting Higgins who looked like the type who would prefer not to exercise if it could be avoided. "Now yeh'll all get a turn. How about you, Johnson, and you, Walker."

Deborah Johnson jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

"Here ya go," Hagrid said, attaching a leash to the cub's collar. "Now min' ya, she'll want ter go as soon as she hits the ground." He handed the leash to Deborah. Immediately she was jerked forward as the cub sped forward with Deborah struggling to keep up. Tip ran behind shouting for them to wait for him. Matthew looked over to Andy who raised his eyebrows. They burst out laughing.

They spent the rest of the class chopping up chicken meat as fine as could be done until it was practically a pink paste and mixing it with milk.

"So, how's Agnes doing?" Matthew ventured.

Andy took another piece of meat and began chopping it finely. "Fine, I think. I mean I don't really talk to her much. You know how sisters are."

"Don't I ever!"

They were silent for a few minutes. Then Andy ventured, "So Hogwarts... they finally let you in. First squib ever."

"Yeah, it would seem so. So... Slytherin..."

"Family tradition."

"You always were the clever one."

"And you were always the genius coming up with plans."

"And you were the one who got us out of trouble when we got caught."

"Do you mean to imply we weren't just following a lost dog by old Mr. MacGregor's tool shed?"

"No, not at all. Why else would we have been there? It's a good thing they hadn't found us a few minutes earlier."

"Yeah, I'm not sure how I would've explained what you were doing on the roof."

The silence relapsed.

"So," Matthew started. "Have you talked to Cliff lately?"

"Nah."

"I thought I saw him over there near that Bulstode girl."

"Yeah. He's part of that death eater group. I don't go in for that type of pure-blood nonsense."

"You don't?"

Andy stopped cutting and fixed Matthew with a hard look, "No. I don't." He returned to cutting.

"But your parents..."

Andy stabbed the table with such force it shook. "My parents don't speak for me," he said in an intense whisper. "Look where this whole blood status thing has gotten us. Two wars. Three if you count Grindelwald. And that was only in the last century. And for what? All it's gotten us is a bunch of dead witches and wizards. My cousin, Astoria, felt the same. I wish you could have met her but she graduated last year. I wish Agnes would listen, but she idolizes the death eaters, thinks they're all so cool."

"Hey, what's going on over here?" Hagrid bustled over. "Ev'rythin' all righ' you two?"

"Yeah," Matthew replied. "Just a bug was all."

"Suppose I don't know my own strength," Andy said, working to pull the knife from where it stuck in the table.

"So, what was that all about?" Dartford asked, jogging to catch up with Matthew, Tip, and Deborah as they walked up the hill toward the castle for Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was their last class of the day.

"What was what all about?" Tip asked.

"Matthew was having fight with that Slytherin kid, Greengrass, I think."

"If he was giving you trouble for being a squib, I'll pop him one I will," Tip said, illustrating the point by punching into his other hand.

"I'll help," Deborah agreed.

"No, it wasn't anything like that. Andy used to be my best friend. We were just talking," Matthew said.

"Best friend?" Deborah said with some surprise. "What happened?"

"Yeah, we lived in the same neighborhood and were the same age. But when they found out I was a squib his parents told him he couldn't be friends with me anymore."

"That's awful!"

"Kinda normal, though," Dartford said. "I mean, isn't that recommended for squibs? Helps them to integrate into muggle culture better. Hey! I didn't mean I supported the idea!" he shouted, running to catch up with the trio who had sped up, leaving him behind.

Matthew glanced at his companions, "He is right, it is normal. I lost all my wizarding friends. I mean some would still talk to me and all but it wasn't the same. It was like when you're waving to someone at the station from the window as your train is pulling out. I was still there, but I wasn't part of that world anymore. I mean it wasn't all bad, I had loads of muggle friends so I wasn't really lonely. Just... Well, it's just how it is isn't it? Or how it was." He smiled slyly.

They passed by Midge who was walking with her friend Sarah Connelly talking enthusiastically, "Oh, I hope one of our lecturers is Newt Scamander! Can you imagine? I think I might faint if I actually got to see him. He's only THE Magizoologist! Maybe he'd let me join him as an apprentice?" Her hands were fluttering like birds wings as she spoke.

"She's really enthusiastic, isn't she?" Tip smirked.

"She's wanted to be a Magizoologist since she was three. You should see her bed. It's completely covered with stuffed animals - unicorns, dragons, kneezils, and the like," Deborah said. "If she can't find one she makes it. I imagine we'll be seeing a baby calygreyhound soon."

"I suppose at least she has something she is passionate about," Matthew said.

"Give you some real competition." Deborah elbowed him in the ribs.

"Good. I wouldn't want to get complacent."

"Well, this next class is the best one. I can't wait to see what Prof. Jones has for us. A real Auror! I looked her up. She was first in her class in the Auror Academy! She was offered the title of Head of Magical Law Enforcement after Crouch moved to International Relations but she turned it down. Said she didn't want a desk job. She's caught dozens of Death Eaters. You know it was her who helped crack the Longbottom case? This is going to be amazing!"

* * *

"Does anyone here know how to kill a cockatrice?" Prof. Jones pointed her wand at a projection of the image of a creature that was somewhere between a rooster and a dragon in appearance. Prof. Jones had changed little in appearance, her severe expression was only heightened by the addition of a pair of horn-rimmed black glasses.

Kelly Knowles, an Irish boy with light brown hair, raised his hand, "The Reductor Curse?"

"No, that is for breaking objects."

"Stupify?" a girl suggested.

"No. The cockatrice is immune to magic of any kind. Now, once more, does anyone know how to kill a cockatrice."

Nobody said a word in the darkened classroom.

"Anyone?" She surveyed the class where the students sat mutely, trying to avoid so much as breathing in the hopes she would not interpret that as a sign they wished to answer. "Does no one in this class know how to kill a cockatrice?"

Matthew timidly raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr..." Prof. Jones checked her chart. "Boot."

"Well, that really depends, doesn't it?"

She eyed him warily, "In what way does it depend, Mr. Boot?"

"Well, if you are merely in a situation where a cockatrice is attacking you, then the best way to kill it is with a mirror because the gaze of the cockatrice is fatal, even to itself. But using a mirror damages the eyes. However, if you are hunting cockatrices you should use a weasel because they are immune to the glare of the cockatrice and can therefore kill many at once without damaging the eyes which are very valuable in potion making."

"That is correct, Mr. Boot. Five points to Hufflepuff. The cockatrice has recently become a popular weapon for the Death Eaters in Dublin. It is very easy to loose a cockatrice into the house of a wizarding family and let it take care of the lot of them. Most foolishly attempt to use spells in an attempt to kill the cockatrice and, by doing so, only hasten their own deaths because most killing curses and stunning spell require visual contact to cast, and, as Mr. Boot pointed out, eye contact is precisely how it kills."

She pointed her wand at the class, "My intention in teaching this class is to not only teach you the spells you will need to survive, but to teach you how to use critical thinking and research to anticipate and defeat your foes. When I began as an Auror, before the First Wizarding War, the common thinking was that we should be thankful for most dark wizards were not particularly bright, which was why they became dark wizards instead of seeking normal positions with the Ministry or at a shop. But that foolish thinking was soon corrected when Tom Riddle (and yes, that is how I will address him and how you will as well inside this classroom) made his bid for power. While many Death Eaters were certainly worthless lumps, like Goyle and Crabbe, good for little else than casting two or three curses, when it came to the LeStranges, the Rossiers, Antonin Dolohov, and Corbin Yaxley we found ourselves dealing with a very different breed of dark wizard. These ones were clever, they set traps, covered up their crimes, sought to infiltrate the Ministry, and we weren't ready for them. We lost a lot of good Aurors in those first years. I will not treat you as children and attempt to shield your eyes from the evils of this world for no Death Eater will grant you that courtesy."

She put up another projection in place of the cockatrice. It was a newspaper article that read:  
 **British Man and Wife found Murdered on the Greek Island of Lesbos**  
 _In an apparent mugging gone wrong Mr. Nicholas Flamel and his wife, Perenelle were found murdered in the early morning hours while vacationing on the tiny Greek island of Lesbos. Mr. Flamel had been stabbed multiple times with a sword or machete. His wife's body was found next to him with no visible wounds. An autopsy will be done to determine the cause of her death. None of their belongings were taken. The Police are still searching for leads. If you have any information please contact Interpol at:xx xxx xxx xxxx_

A black and white photo of what appeared to be a person covered by a white sheet upon which three long dark streaks could be seen forming a "Z" shape across the torso.

"This was published today on the 6th page of the Daily Telegraph."

"But that's Nicholas Flamel!" Matthew exclaimed in surprise. "They just had an article in the Daily Prophet about him just yesterday. The Flamels were celebrating their anniversary."

"Please raise your hand if you wish to speak, Mr. Boot. But yes," Prof. Jones flipped to an image of the article Matthew had read on the train yesterday, "and apparently you were not the only one who saw it. But you'll notice the news of his death has not reached the good people at the Daily Prophet yet. Or it has and they have just decided it is not worth their time to publish. After all, people grow weary of reading about deaths all the time, there are certainly enough provided by the Death Eaters, there is no sense publishing an article about a mugging gone wrong. This is the first lesson we can draw from this: Never trust the Daily Prophet as your only source of news. I'm certain many of you have learned this lesson with the rise of Tom Riddle and the subsequent demonization of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore, but it bears repeating: Do not put your faith in the Daily Prophet alone."

She returned to the previous photograph, "Now, with the knowledge that this is indeed a wizard and his wife, a witch, does anyone see anything wrong with this picture?"

"Where are their wands?" Deborah asked.

"Exactly. Neither were found with their wands. What do you think that could mean Miss... Johnson?"

"That something was stolen from them."

"Exactly, at the very least their wands were stolen from them. Tell me something else you noticed."

Now it was Dartford whose hand shot up, Prof. Jones nodded at him. "There were no injuries to Mrs. Flamel, only to her husband."

"Meaning?"

"She was probably killed using the Killing Curse."

"Correct. The Killing Curse leaves no traces on the body. But why not use the same curse on her husband?"

Matthew raised his hand. "Well, I think there are two possible reasons."

"Go on."

"The first: Flamel had information that the killer wanted and he was tortured into confessing, in which case, the wife would be accessory to the fact and would be killed simply because she was a witness. Or, Mr. Flamel was tortured in order to persuade his wife to talk."

"Which do you believe was more likely?"

"That the wife was killed as an accessory. If the killer always meant to kill both it would be better to torture the one with information under the threat of potentially torturing the other. He'd be far more likely to speak if he were in pain and did not wish to see that pain inflicted on a loved one. With the other way around you only have the leverage of the other not wanting to be tortured or not wanting to see their loved one die. However, from the look of the wounds, death was certain from the very beginning, therefore, the idea that her talking might save him from death was not on the table. Thus only self-preservation could motivate her."

"Self-preservation is a strong motivator though."

"It is, but the Flamels had been married for 600 years; at that length of time one must assume that they would prefer death to separation."

"Very good. Mr. Knowles?"

"But how is this case relevant to us?" Knowles asked.

"I was just getting to that. Now, you'll notice the marks on Flamel's body." She made the sign of the "Z" in the air with her wand. "That is not just any spell, that is a spell known as 'Sectumsempera'. It is a very rare spell created by late Hogwart's Headmaster Severus Snape and known to only a handful of people, specifically Death Eaters who were close to Prof. Snape before the death of Lily Potter. While they also may have passed it on that still leaves us with a very small pool of suspects. The chances that a random dark wizard in Greece would be familiar with the spell are infinitesimal. Therefore, we must assume that this murder was committed by Death Eaters who were veterans of the First Wizarding War."

"Do you know who?" Deborah asked, forgetting to raise her hand.

"Not yet, though I have my suspicions." They continued the discussion and Prof. Jones showed them how to reconstruct the scene of the crime based on the evidence presented and showed how the Flamels might have been able to detect their attackers before it was too late and thus bought themselves a chance to fight.

"As my mentor, the late Alastair Moody used to say: the key to staying alive is constant vigilance."

She waved her wand, causing the lights to flash on and the blinds to roll up. Matthew and the rest of the class winced and groaned as the sudden assault of bright light.

"For our next class we will work on shielding charms so be certain to read that chapter in your books before you come to class. I also want you to write out five possible ways to take down a giant due on Friday; no less than 10 centimeters of parchment. We will discuss your answers in class so be prepared."

A few of the students groaned, including Tip and Dartford.

"That was awesome!" Deborah cried as they left the class. "I want to be an Auror like her!"

"Then you'll have to work on your potions," Knowles sniped.

"I'll be ok. Matthew will help me, won't you Matthew." She grabbed Matthew's arm.

"Sure, of course."

"See. I'll be fine, Kelly." She stuck her tongue out at the other boy.

"Hey, did you notice something strange about that lesson?" Matthew asked.

"No, what?"

"She never asked why the crime might have been committed. She never even mentioned possible motives."

"Hey, you're right!" Tip said.

"Which means..." Matthew began.

"That she already knows why!" Deborah finished.

"And it's something she doesn't want us to know," Matthew added.

"Too right! We have a real life mystery to solve!" Tip said eagerly.

"Mr. Boot! Might I have a word with you a moment?" Prof. Jones said. Her black glasses perched near the tip of her nose.

Here is was. She would tell him not to even bother coming on Wednesday, that there was no point in trying to teach him spells.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll catch up with you all later." He followed Prof. Jones into her classroom where she sat down at her desk and began going through a stack of papers. "What is it you wanted to speak with me about?"

"I wanted to remind you to bring thicker clothes to class on Wednesday."

"Wait... you want me to come?"

"Of course. Just because you can't use magic doesn't mean you will be immune to attacks. They will be learning the shield charm, and you, you will be learning to dodge a stunning spell. But I will not go easy on you so be sure to dress with extra padding. That is all."

Matthew stood, stunned, staring at Prof. Jones.

She glanced up and waved her hand dismissively, " You may go. Oh, and close the door on your way out."

He walked out of the room in silence. Upon closing the door he jumped up with his fist in the air and let out a whoop. Finally he was going to get to do some magic.

He was so eager to tell the others that he almost crashed into Holly coming out of the first floor astronomy classroom. If anything, she was paler than she had been yesterday.

"I am truly sorry," Firenze was saying to her, "But it is as I said, the moon will be in eclipse multiple times this year."

"Yes sir." She looked perfectly perplexed by his cryptic words.

He placed a large hand upon her shoulder, "Once again, I am truly sorry." He then turned and walked away, his hooves clopping softly on the flagstone.

"What was that all about?"

Holly shrugged, then broke into a wide, slightly snaggle-toothed grin as she realized who was asking her the question. "Matthew!" She threw her skinny arms around him.

"It's good to see you too, Holly. How was your first day?"

She shrugged, her eyes directed to the ground.

"Yeah, mine was a bit rough too, but it did get better. Did you make any friends?"

She gazed off at the wall.

"Hey, did your mouse tell you his name yet?"

"His name is Artemis. At least that's what it sounded like."

"Artemis. That's an interesting name." Matthew resisted the urge to tell her it was a girl's name. It was her mouse, afterall, and who was he to tell her what to call it.

"I have to go to the Library," she said, turning on her heel in an almost mechanical manner.

"I'll go with you. I need to find a good book on giants anyhow. But I thought the Library was this way?" He pointed in the opposite direction to where she was heading.

"This way is shorter," she said the words with no hesitation, but there was something strange in her demeanor.

"Ok, I'll follow you then," Matthew agreed certain they were about to spend the next thirty minutes wandering the corridors, but at least she wouldn't be wondering alone.

She took his hand and led him through three corridors, a hidden door behind a tapestry, up a rickety wooden staircase he had never seen before, to a door that turned out to be a false painting which opened up just in front of the Library.

"Wow," he exclaimed. "Did the Ravenclaws give you a special tour of all the shortcuts to the Library?" He could absolutely see them doing that considering how essential the Library was to Ravenclaws, of course they would be sure the newest house members knew all the best ways to get there.

"No."

"Then how did you know the way?"

"I just do," she said, heading off to a back aisle as though she knew exactly where she was going and which book she intended to pick out.

"Good evening, Madam Pince," Matthew said, addressing the Librarian, a rather unpleasant looking woman with a very stern face. "Could you help me? I need to find a book on Giants." Madam Pince pointed him in the right direction as Holly returned from the back with _Hogwarts: A History_ , tucked under her arm. "I'll see you at dinner, Holly!" he waved. She turned slightly and smiled with a wide, toothy grin before hurrying off. Such a strange girl, he thought.


	6. Chapter 6: Quidditch Tryouts

**Chapter 6: The Forbidden Forest**

Matthew waited beside the gargoyle that stood in front of McGonagall's office. Even through the thick stone he thought he could just faintly hear the severe dressing down being inflicted upon McLaggen and Ceelee. Suddenly, the gargoyle jumped aside, allowing Headmistress McGonagall to appear with Liam and Ceelee at her side. "And if I ever see such behavior from the pair of you again it will be a month of detention for you both. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes, headmistress." Ceelee and McLaggen said in unison.

"If only you could show such unity outside of my office. Very well, you may go back to your houses and I don't expect to see either of you out until supper." Ceelee and McLaggen went in opposite directions, both with dark expressions on their faces.

"Ceelee! Hey, Ceelee, wait up!" Matthew called, chasing after her.

She scanned the corridor then turned quickly, grabbing Matthew by the collar of his robes she dragged him into an empty classroom. She scowled at him. "What did I tell you about being seen with me, Squib?"

"To try to cut back to weekends and holidays?"

A slight smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She released the front of his robes. "So what do you want, Squib?"

"I wanted to thank you for stunning Smith for me."

"Oh believe me, it wasn't for you. I've been looking for a reason to curse Smith for ages."

Matthew couldn't help but smile at her sarcastically. "You really can't let it go, can you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Squib."

"You can't let anyone think you might have done something to be nice."

"Niceness is weakness. That's why everyone takes advantage of the Hufflepuffs, because they're too nice. I mean look at you."

"What about me?"

"Look how everyone treated you on the first day. And you just took it. You didn't yell or get angry or anything."

"What would that have accomplished? I mean, besides getting me hexed into oblivion?" Matthew's voice rose as he spoke. "In case you didn't notice, I'm a squib. I'm the first squib to ever get into Hogwarts as a student. Of course I get angry. Who wouldn't get angry? Do you know what my brother gave me when I left for Hogwarts? His old Ravenclaw robes. But I'm not in Ravenclaw, am I? I didn't even get the chance! It would be one thing if I were sorted into a different house, that I could accept, but no. They wouldn't even allow me to put the hat on. I was rejected by every single house, except Hufflepuff, just because of what I am and even they weren't keen. It didn't matter that I achieved nine OWLS, it didn't matter that I was a good Keeper, it didn't matter who I was or what I could do - nothing about me mattered except that I couldn't do magic."

The rage at the series of injustices done him now threatened to boil over as he continued, "I stood in front of the entire school openly rejected by three houses, told to go home, threatened if I didn't. Of course I was angry! I spent a year working all day every day to get in and that was how I was treated? But there was nothing I could do about it. Because I'm the first squib. They are watching every single thing I do, looking for a reason why squibs shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts. If I show that they've gotten to me you know what they'll say? They'll say squibs can't handle the pressure of being at Hogwarts. And that's it, the doors will be closed to all squibs forever. And why? Because I couldn't keep my temper. I'm thirteen years old and the future of all squibs rests on what I do here. Do you know how much pressure that is? I have to show everyone that squibs can still be valuable members of the Wizarding community. Not just the help." He looked to the floor as though he wished he could spit upon those words.

"So yeah, I'll take it. I don't care if they dump a bucket of botuber pus on me every morning until I graduate, I'll gladly take it. Because I'm here. And if I can get through then maybe that will make the path easier for the next one and the next one until it's not uncommon to see a squib student at Hogwarts. So what if Wycliffe dumps a cup of pumpkin juice on me, or Gryffindor covers me in spit wads, or the Slytherins hex me in the halls, or everyone calls me Squib like its my name? I'm still here. And I'll prove my worth. But don't you ever think it doesn't get to me."

For once Ceelee was dumbfounded. Finally, she smiled, "So you're human, after all. I can respect that."

"Of course I am, what did you think I was?"

"A mouse."

"You know, mice aren't as cowardly as their reputation would have you believe, studies have shown-"

"Maybe you do belong in Ravenclaw," Ceelee interrupted. "Still, it took guts to speak to me like that."

"Well, what would you do about it? I think I'd look good with antlers, personally. Add some distinction."

"I could give you a pig snout."

"No good. I love truffles." Ceelee laughed, in spite of herself. "So what did McGonagall do?" Matthew asked.

"Oh, she gave us her usual lecture about fighting and assigned us detention with Hagrid tomorrow evening. Apparently, he could use a hand with the Calygreyhounds"

"Both of you? I'd think she'd want to keep you apart."

"Maybe she's hoping that by suffering together we'll find some common bond and then suddenly Slytherin and Gryffindor will get along and we'll all sit in a circle and sing kumbaya or something."

"Maybe she thinks Hagrid is the only one strong enough to separate you two. Giants are resistant to spells."

"Most likely. And she doesn't want to come up with two different detentions on a weekend."

"I think that's a given."

Ceelee grabbed her bag, "Well, I'll see you around, Matt."

"Well, weekends and holidays at least." She smirked and left the room.

* * *

That evening, at supper, the full weight of the day's events came to bear as the headmistress announced that tomorrow's Quidditch tryouts would be closed to all but the participants. Declan groaned loudly, "We won't be able to find out who Slytherin's captain is!"

"Or the rest of their team, for that matter," Polly added, "Or Ravenclaw."

McGonagall continued, "If I so much as see anyone near the Quidditch pitch during tryouts it will be detention and ten points from your house. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Tip muttered. He turned to the others. "I'm still going to see it," he whispered, conspiratorially.

"And how do you intend to do that with McGonagall on guard?" Deborah asked.

"...I don't know yet, but I will. Right, Matt? We'll see those tryouts one way or another."

"I don't recall agreeing to that," Matthew said, helping himself to another treacle tart.

"Oh come on, you're the brains of this operation!"

"And what are you? The brawn?" Deborah laughed causing the colorful beads on her miniature braids to click together.

Tip looked incensed. "Mark me, I will find a way in, whether you help me or not."

"I'm sure McLaggen and Carrow will be glad to have you join them in detention," Matthew said, slyly, glancing at the pair who were staring daggers at each other across the room. Ceelee made a move toward her robe. McLaggen readied his wand, only to lower it as she produced a shaker of salt and shot him a superior glare.

Tip's eyes grew wide, "McLaggen _and_ Carrow?! Never mind! It's not worth it. I don't want to get caught in the crossfire between those two. I'd be hexed into oblivion. Sorry, Declan." he called to the end of the table.

"For what?" Declan called back, confused. But Tip had already moved on to complaining about the amount of homework he had left from Profs. Slughorn and Jones, both of whom, in his opinion, seemed to believe they were the only teachers in the entire school.

* * *

Sunday came with a fine, cool chill wrapped in warm sunlight that beckoned Matthew to the grounds following breakfast. A number of students were already out by the lake giving it a rather crowded appearance. Matthew decided to take a stroll down by the Quidditch pitch toward Hagrid's cabin. Perhaps, if he felt up to it, he might even help Hagrid with the Calygreyhound cubs.

As he passed the pitch he could just make out the Ravenclaws over the stands as they practiced. It looked as though they were warming up. He saw Taro dive down and then back up again, quaffle nestled against his body. Behind him the dark haired girl followed with a smooth fluid motion even Taro could not manage. Without even looking, Taro threw the ball backward where it was neatly received into the waiting arms of Bridget McConville-Kinealy. A bludger flew through the air at her but she dove over it as gracefully as a dolphin leaping from the water. She was less flying through the air than swimming through it.

She dove below the top of the stands, obscuring her from Matthew's view before popping up once more, passing the quaffle between herself and Taro. Matthew watched, completely captivated as she dipped and dived and wove through the cerulean sea of sky. He was not even watching where he was walking, eyes still focused on the sky, when he walked right into the trunk of an enormous tree.

Bouncing off the trunk, he still could not tear his eyes from the flowing brunette ponytail and blue robes with silver lining flickering as the end waved, following her movements just a moment behind. His hand moved up the trunk, finding a low branch he lifted himself up and began to climb until he had reached the top of the tree. He lay himself down on the uppermost branch, peering over the large knotty end at the Ravenclaw Co-captain.

Taro and the other members of the team vanished from his notice, as if they were merely white noise behind the rippling keys of a piano. He had never seen anyone fly like that, in every motion, every flicker of silver and blue, every pitch and catch, she was beautiful. He lost track of time as he watched. The branch beneath him shifted in the breeze. It seemed as if even the world were moving in sympathy.

No, that wasn't the world. That was the tree.

The branch he lay upon shook beneath him as though awakening from a long slumber. It swayed slowly. Matthew held fast as he returned to his senses. He looked down at the tree, its large, club ended branches now moving about like Medusan coils.

Feeling his movement, the tree sprang to life. The branch he was on bucked and reeled, pitching him this way and that while he hung on for dear life. He reared back onto his knees. Another fist shaped branch landed where his head had been only a moment before. He managed to grab the branch again just when he felt the smashing impact of one of the club ended branches on his side.

He briefly had the sensation of flying before he opened his eyes to see Madam Pomfrey staring at him, behind her a stark white ceiling. How had he gotten inside? he wondered. "Minerva, he's awake."

Prof. McGonagall came into view, her expression severe. "Mr. Boot."

Matthew scurried to sit up. "Yes, professor?"

"I don't know what possessed you to climb the whomping willow or how you even managed to and I do not particularly care. You are never to go near that tree again. Twenty points from Hufflepuff. You are just lucky Mr. Matsumoto and Miss McConville-Kinealy saw you flying through the air or you very well might be dead at this moment."

"They saw me?" Matthew's face burned.

"Yes. They were forced to delay Quidditch tryouts for almost an hour to bring you in to Madam Pomfrey. I hope you are proud of yourself. I put my reputation on the line for you to come to this school and you cannot even go a month without nearly getting yourself killed-" Prof. McGonagall went on in this vein but Matthew was no longer listening, rather he was wishing very much that he could somehow turn into a mouse and scurry away into some corner to never be seen by the Ravenclaw Captain and Co-captain ever again. "Detention."

He heard the word clearly over his thoughts. "I'm sorry?" he asked, his mind rushing back to the hospital bed inwhich he sat.

"You heard me. Detention. This evening, after supper, with Hagrid at his cabin. Madam Pomfrey has assured me that you will be out of bed by that time. You're lucky I don't expel you."

"Yes, professor. Thank you, professor."

The headmistress turned to leave when a thought seemed to strike her, "Oh, and Boot?"

"Yes, professor?"

"You might want to wear your black Hogwarts robes; it could get messy."

"Yes, professor."

Prof. McGonagall exited the room leaving Matthew still sitting in bed feeling monumentally stupid. How could he have not noticed that tree was the whomping willow? And now he was going to be stuck serving detention with Hagrid.

Well, he supposed, it could be worse. Better than having to write lines, anyway. At least he'd be doing something and the Calygreyhound cubs were certainly fun to play with. He could ask Hagrid about the Forbidden Forest and the creatures within - Hagrid was known to have loads of tales. He was not the best professor so far as personal safety was concerned, but, aside from Newt Scamander, there was probably no one who knew more about the care of magical creatures than Hagrid.

He was just beginning to feel a bit better about his situation when he suddenly realized - weren't Ceelee and McLaggen also serving detention with Hagrid tonight? His spirits fell once more. He didn't know which prospect was worse, spending time with McLaggen or having to tell Ceelee how, exactly, he had managed to get detention - that was, of course, assuming they didn't start fighting and accidentally turn him into some sort of giant, tentacled slug.

* * *

After supper, Matthew made his way down to Hagrid's cabin in the dimming light of evening. "Hey Squib!" McLaggen's voice boomed from behind him. Matthew turned to see the wire-haired chaser walking not twenty meters behind him. "Heard you were practicing your flying. So how did you manage to climb the whomping willow, anyway?"

"Sod off, McLaggen!" Ceelee said, approaching from the Quidditch pitch where tryouts had clearly only just finished. Unlike Matthew and McLaggen she was not wearing her black robes but green and silver Quidditch robes and carrying an old Cleansweep.

"So, they finally made you the team mascot," McLaggen said.

"Laugh all you want McLaggen, you won't be laughing when I wave that snitch in front of your nose."

"On that old broom? You'll be lucky if you even come in second. You've seen what Creevey's got this year?"

"Yeah, so Harry Potter bought him a broom, big deal. Just means he won't be as used to it."

"You talk big now, Carrow, but you just wait until Boots and Cass have their shot at you."

"I suppose you'll just have to suck it and see," Ceelee returned with a mocking glance. Then her brow furrowed and she turned to Matthew. "But McLaggen makes a good point; how did you manage to climb the whomping willow?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was asleep."

"That thing doesn't sleep," McLaggen said, "it doesn't even relax."

"You would know from how many times you, Wycliffe, and Jerry Card used to play 'Touch the Trunk'," Ceelee said.

"Touch the Trunk?" Matthew asked.

"It's a stupid game the boys in the Knight's Club play to prove how brave and manly they are," she mocked. "They try to touch the trunk of the whomping willow. No one's ever gotten closer than four meters."

"It's meant to teach courage and fortitude and skill."

"By getting the tar knocked out of you by a tree."

"Better a tree than Boots Luna."

"Well, you would be the expert on both accounts, wouldn't you?"

An entire evening of this. Matthew sighed hopelessly. This was going to be the longest night of his life.

"Ho! Ceelee! McLaggen! Boot!" the giant shadow that was Hagrid raised his huge hand in greeting to them. He was holding something large and strange in shape in the other hand, Matthew couldn't quite make out its form in the dying light. "Good ter see ya!" he called out, taking huge strides up to meet them with Fang trotting alongside.

As soon as the giant boarhound scented Ceelee he tackled her, licking every part of her face. Hagrid rushed over to pull the dog off. Matthew could now see what the strange object was that Hagrid was carrying: it was a giant crossbow with a bolt as thick as Matthew's index finger. "Ah know Prof. McGonagall told yeh tha' we would be workin' wit the Calygreyhound cubs today, bu' somethin's come up. One o' me thestrals was killed yesterday."

Shock flitted across Ceelee's face. "What happened?"

"Don' know what coulda done it. Found her this mornin'. Poor girl was torn apart. I know she was due to give birth bu' ah didn' see any sign o' the foal. Whatever got her musta taken it."

"Was it a werewolf?" McLaggen looked as though he were fighting to appear brave.

Hagrid looked up at the moon, it was large and fat but clearly waning. He shook his head. "Ah don' think so. But whatever or whoever it was sure wanted to make it look that way. It could be one of Greyback's lot, they're monsters no matter what phase the moon is in, but it's poachers mos' likely. Thestral foals are worth a lot on the black market, whole or in pieces. Suppose they hoped ah wouldn' find her for a few days. Bu' I been checkin' on the herd what with birthin' an' all. Ah got a new mum due any time now. If yeh listen yeh can hear her. Won' be long now." Matthew listened, faintly, in the distance he could hear the labored breathing of some great beast.

"If someone is killin' the mothers an' stealin' the babies we had better find her an quick. McLaggen, you can see thestrals, right?" McLaggen nodded. "An' Ceelee, ah know you can. Boot, can you see 'em?"

"I... I don't think so," Matthew answered. So far as he could recall he had never seen anyone die. But then, so many had died in the battle of Hogwarts he might have seen one and not even realized it.

"Oh yeah, you took the boats this year so yeh wouldn' know fer sure. Best stick close then. We'll be goin' in the forest jus' a little ways. If you'll follow me." Hagrid lit his lantern and held it aloft as they made their way toward the Forbidden Forest. "Stay right behind me, Boot. I don't wan' yeh ter get lost in the dark."

They walked for almost ten minutes following the sound of the heavy breathing. As they trekked deeper into the forest, the twilight was replaced by pitch darkness. Behind him, Matthew could see the pale light from Ceelee and McLaggen's wands shifting from the trees to the path and into dark crevices where strange noises seemed to emanate from what was nothing at all. The path before them was growing less and less distinct until Matthew wasn't sure whether they were still on it or had left it some ways back.

Suddenly, from out of the darkness came a low, mournful howl. A shiver ran up Matthew's spine. Hagrid instantly turned toward the sound, the lantern light illuminating his serious expression. The howl sounded again from somewhere off to the right. It was not far. "What is it?" McLaggen asked, a slight quaver to his voice. "There are wolves in this forest, right?"

"That's no wolf," Hagrid said, soberly. "You three, take Fang and find the thestral. I'll take care of this. If yeh get in trouble send up red sparks, green if yeh find the momma." Hagrid crashed into the thick underbrush, crossbow at the ready. In a moment he had disappeared into the darkness, not even his lantern breaching the black of the forest.

"How does he know it's not a wolf?" McLaggen asked, alarmed.

"The pitch of the howl," Matthew tried to calm the shaking in his own voice. He could still remember those glowing golden eyes coming from the forest, still feel their hot, moist breath on his heels. "the length of the howl... the tonal modulation..."

"Are you scared, McLaggen?" Ceelee said, her tone mocking. "Don't tell me you're afraid of werewolves?"

"No. Of course I'm not. My Uncle used to take us on werewolf hunting trips in the Black Forest. Now come on, we've got to find that thestral." He began walking in the direction of the breathing again. "Well? Or do you want to go back home to your mummy, Carrow?"

Matthew was quite sure Fang wanted to go home to his mummy, the massive dog was shaking like a leaf under his hold. Ceelee strode forward confidently, following behind McLaggen with Matthew and Fang taking up the rear. After five more minutes Matthew was certain they were no longer on the path.

"You know, now that I think about it, I guess you wouldn't be afraid of werewolves, would you? I mean, wasn't your father in league with Greyback and his followers."

"Stuff it, McLaggen." Ceelee's tone was warning. She threw her hood over her head.

"They probably think of you as an honorary cub."

"I said stuff it!" Ceelee flourished her wand as if she were about to use it when Matthew grabbed it, pointing it to the ground.

"What is that?" Matthew said, pointing to what appeared to be a flickering orange light in the darkness.

"Probably a Hinkypunk."

"Hinkypunks usually live in bogs."

"Perhaps it gets boggy down that way," she said irritably.

"No, it looks too big to be a lantern," Matthew said, squinting at the light. "I think it's a fire."

"It might be the poachers," McLaggen said. "Let's check it out."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Ceelee said.

"She's right, we should alert Hagrid," Matthew agreed.

"You really are scared, aren't you, Carrow?"

"No, I'm just not stupid."

"Well, I'm going. You can tell Hagrid I'll be waiting for him with a bunch of stunned poachers." McLaggen strode forward into the underbrush, making surprisingly little noise for his size. Ceelee ran after him with Matthew following behind. McLaggen stopped. "So you decided to come along, afterall."

"I just want to make sure you don't get us all killed," she said, tramping along behind him.

As they approached the fire McLaggen held a finger to his lips. He slid soundlessly through the bushes when Ceelee caught his arm. "What is it, Carrow?" he whispered, testily.

Concern flashed in her eyes, "I don't hear breathing anymore."

"Do you think that means they got her?" Matthew said.

"Let's hope not," McLaggen answered. "Come on." He waved them onward.

They silently slid behind a stand of trees from which they were able to see two cloaked figures sitting beside the fire. Though they were sitting, it was clear they were the size of fully grown men, their bodies and faces completely obscured by their cloaks. The figure closest to the the tree stand appeared quite a bit larger than the other who, even cloaked, clearly possessed a thinner build.

"He had better hurry up," the slimmer one growled nervously. "That great oaf won't be fooled for long."

"He will be here," the other man said.

"Why do we need thestrels, anyhow? They clearly are unaware of Wormtail's passage or they would have filled it in by now."

"For now. That does not mean they will remain unaware forever. A wise man leaves himself many options in case circumstances change."

"The Dark Lord did not-"

"The Dark Lord was not a wise man," the larger man interrupted. "That is why he allowed a seventeen-year-old boy to defeat him."

"But he was so powerful!"

"Powerful, yes. And to many power might be mistaken for wisdom. That was our mistake. We saw the signs of monomania and we ignored them simply because he was so powerful. He was not wise. A wise man does not allow himself to be driven by a fear of death." The larger man pulled his wand from his robes and made a motion that caused a heavy log to rise from a pile and onto the fire. As he did this, the sleeve of his robe fell down about his elbow revealing a faint scar in the shape of a skull with a snake sliding from the mouth on the pale flesh of his left forearm.

"Deatheaters!" McLaggen breathed, his eyes glinting with excitement.

"We should go," Matthew said.

"No, you should stay," a voice from behind them boomed. Fang yelped and ran away. " _Incarcerous_!" From out of nowhere thick ropes wrapped themselves around the trio, binding them tightly.

A large man dressed in the same robes as the pair at the fire appeared. His robes were ill-fitting, tight around what was probably a barrel chest. Locks of white hair shifted in and out of view under his hood, too short to be tied but too long to obey. He pulled the group, bound tightly to each other, into the circle of firelight.

"Keep quiet, I'll handle this," Ceelee whispered.

"Look what I caught!" their captor announced. "They were sneaking around behind those trees. Should we..." he made a stabbing motion with his wand.

The other two stood. The larger one stepped forward, appraising their catch. "We should go," the thinner man said, nervously. He began pacing back and forth in the firelight. "Hagrid might be just behind them."

"Not likely, I led him miles away. He'll be chasing shadows for the next hour at least." the white haired man bragged, then he let out a howl much like the one they had heard earlier.

"Your werewolf impression has improved."

"You can thank Greyback for that. Only thing that worthless mutt was ever good for."

The larger man bent sideways, leaning in to look at Ceelee's face. While Matthew could not see the man's eyes, he watched as a smile spread across the figure's unshaven chin. With one quick movement of his wand the ropes were cut, falling around them. "What are you doing?" the slender man cried.

"I don't think you'll want to kill this one," the larger man said, pointing his wand carelessly at Ceelee. From his tone Matthew could tell the man was still smiling.

"Why not?" the man who captured them said, moving over to see. In one fluid motion Ceelee pulled her hood from her face, her eyes burning and mouth set as though she were seriously displeased.

"Celestina!" the man with the white hair cried in shock.

"You couldn't even recognize your own favorite?" the other man said. The slender man visibly relaxed at this pronouncement.

"It's been a few years."

"Celestina Carrow. I knew your mother well," the man said in an oily tone.

"Better than your own wife, I should say," Ceelee spat the words at him. But the man just smiled.

"Who are your friends?"

"No one important. Just a few students I recruited to help with the plan."

"They know about the plan?"

"They know what I tell them."

"So what in the world were you doing out here, Celestina?" the man asked in a tone that was meant to be nonchalant but clearly demanded an answer.

"Detention. We needed knotgrass and this was the only way to get into the Forbidden Forest without anyone becoming suspicious. We also need bicorn horn but I don't suppose there's any chance we'll find one out here stalking you."

The man laughed mirthlessly. "No, I suppose there is little risk of that. And how did you come to be in detention?"

"The Fat Slug caught us stealing from the storeroom."

"Were you able to get what you came for?"

"Boomslang skin? Yes. We stole some ashwinder eggs to fool him into thinking I was planning to brew a love potion. Stupid git didn't even check the boomslang skin store once he found those."

"Very clever, Celestina, very clever indeed." The man took a lock of Ceelee's hair between his fingers. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe you are truly Amycus's daughter... Perhaps, over the holidays we might become better acquainted."

"You disgust me."

"Temper, temper. I know the new Lord will certainly be glad to add you to our number. Yes... I imagine he will be quite fond of you. You are almost as clever as he was... almost. Anyway, we have what we need so we shall be taking our leave of you." Each of the men threw on something silvery and suddenly disappeared before Matthew's eyes. The fire appeared to extinguish itself as the sound of heavy footsteps left the clearing.

McLaggen rounded on Ceelee, he looked ready to demand something but she held up her hand, watching the direction the sound of the footsteps had gone off in. They stood in silence a few tense moments before Ceelee relaxed. Pulling her wand she sent up a jet of red sparks.

"What is _the plan_?" McLaggen demanded.

"I don't know. I made it all up," Ceelee said.

"You made it up?" McLaggen was incredulous.

"You really think they'd let a kid in on their plot?"

"Well they sure seemed to know what you were talking about."

"I overheard my mom mention something about it once."

"Well maybe you should ask your father for more details."

"Sod off, McClaggen!" Fire flashed in Ceelee's eyes, Matthew had never seen her quite so angry. For a moment, he had to agree with Donald and Tip, she was scary.

"Who were those people, anyway? Friends of your family?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Ceelee answered angrily, turning back to the way they came.

"You aren't going anywhere!" McLaggen growled. Ceelee froze. Even with her back turned she seemed to sense McLaggen had his wand trained on her. "Not until you've answered my questions."

"You wouldn't attack a person behind their back," she said.

"A Death Eater is not a person."

"She's not a Death Eater, McLaggen!" Matthew cried.

"Prove it. Show me your arm."

"I don't have to prove anything to you."

"Show it or I'll-"

"You'll what, McLaggen? _Crucio_ me?"

"Ceelee, just show him your arm!" Matthew said.

"No. I want to know what he'll do."

"Don't tempt me, Carrow."

"Come on, McLaggen, use the Cruciatus curse on me. You know you want to." She spun on heel to face him. "You've wanted to for years. Come on McLaggen, do it. I can take it."

"Show me your arm."

"No."

The wand shook in McLaggen's hand.

"Come on. Do it," she dared.

"McLaggen!" Matthew shouted, "How thick are you? Don't you get it? She saved your life!"

McLaggen appeared torn. Finally, he lowered the wand. "I'll let you go this time, Carrow."

Ceelee yanked the sleeve from her left forearm and held it up. The inner palatte was a pale white field of flesh. "I'm no Death Eater."

McLaggen stared at the arm, stunned. His face moved as though it were working through something very difficult that it could not decide how it might express. From somewhere not far off, Matthew could hear Fang's loud barking and the crashing of a large body through the brush. "Ceelee! McLaggen! Boot! Are yeh all righ'?" Hagrid's voice boomed through the darkness.

"Yeah, we're alright!" Ceelee answered, giving one last pointed look at McLaggen before pulling her sleeve back down.

Hagrid burst through the brush. "Ah saw the sparks an' thought you might be in danger."

"We found the poacher's camp," Ceelee said, gesturing toward the extinguished fire. "But we were too late to stop them." Deflated, McLaggen appeared to lack the will to contradict her. Matthew wasn't sure what might be said - he was already in enough trouble with Prof. McGonagall, he clearly had no desire to explain how they had disobeyed Hagrid's strict orders and had almost been killed by Death Eaters because of it.

Hagrid knelt down and examined the ground. He stood back up, a black expression on his face. "Three of 'em. They got the baby." Matthew looked confused, he had not seen anything, but Ceelee shook her head, silencing him. Hagrid shouldered the crossbow. "We'd best be gettin' back. Nothin' we can do now. I'll go out tomorrow and find the mother an' give her a righ' proper burial. Don' know what kinda monsters coul' do that to an innocent creature."

Matthew finally spoke as they arrived at Hagrid's cabin, knowing full well the answer, he could think of no other way of alerting Hagrid to the truth without implicating them. "Do you think the poachers might be Death Eaters?"

"Probably. Don' know anyone else could do sucha thing. Bu' I don' know how they could get on ter the grounds wha' with all the new defenses."

Wormtail's passage. Matthew answered him mentally. But who was Wormtail? And what sort of passage was it? They said it might be filled in... could it be a tunnel? But if it were a tunnel where might it be? The grounds were vast. It could be anywhere. If anything, it was probably in the Forbidden Forest - they would not want to risk exposure by going through the castle. Or would that even matter? His head swam with questions as he, McLaggen, and Ceelee tramped up the hill toward the castle in silence.


	7. Chapter 7: The Forbidden Forest

**Chapter 7: The Forbidden Forest**

Matthew waited beside the gargoyle that stood in front of McGonagall's office. Even through the thick stone he thought he could just faintly hear the severe dressing down being inflicted upon McLaggen and Ceelee. Suddenly, the gargoyle jumped aside, allowing Headmistress McGonagall to appear with Liam and Ceelee at her side.

"And if I ever see such behavior from the pair of you again it will be a month of detention for both of you. Do I make myself understood?"

"Yes, headmistress." Ceelee and McLaggen said in unison.

"If only you could show such unity outside of my office. Very well, you may go back to your houses and I don't expect to see either of you out until supper."

Ceelee and McLaggen went in opposite directions, both with dark expressions on their faces.

"Ceelee! Hey, Ceelee, wait up!" Matthew called, chasing after her.

She scanned the corridor then turned quickly, grabbing Matthew by the collar of his robes she dragged him into an empty classroom. She scowled at him. "What did I tell you about being seen with me, Squib?"

"To try to cut back to weekends and holidays?"

A slight smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. She released the front of his robes. "So what do you want, Squib?"

"I wanted to thank you for stunning Smith for me."

"Oh believe me, it wasn't for you. I've been looking for a reason to curse Smith for ages."

Matthew couldn't help but smile at her sarcastically, "You really can't let it go, can you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Squib."

"You can't let anyone think you might have done something to be nice."

"Niceness is weakness. That's why everyone takes advantage of the Hufflepuffs, because they're too nice. I mean look at you."

"What about me?"

"Look how everyone treated you on the first day. And you just took it. You didn't yell or get angry or anything."

"What would that have accomplished? I mean, besides getting me hexed into oblivion?" Matthew's voice rose as he spoke. "In case you didn't notice, I'm a squib. I'm the first squib to ever get into Hogwarts as a student. Of course I get angry. Who wouldn't get angry? Do you know what my brother gave me when I left for Hogwarts? His old Ravenclaw robes. But I'm not in Ravenclaw, am I? I didn't even get the chance! It would be one thing if I were sorted into a different house, that I could accept, but no. They wouldn't even allow me to put the hat on. I was rejected by every single house, except Hufflepuff, just because of what I am and even they weren't keen. It didn't matter that I achieved nine OWLS, it didn't matter that I was a good Keeper, it didn't matter who I was or what I could do - nothing about me mattered except that I couldn't do magic. I stood in front of the entire school openly rejected by three houses, told to go home, threatened if I didn't. Of course I was angry! I spent a year working all day every day to get in and that was how I was treated? But there was nothing I could do about it. Because I'm the first squib. They are watching every single thing I do, looking for a reason why squibs shouldn't be allowed at Hogwarts. If I show that they've gotten to me you know what they'll say? They'll say squibs can't handle the pressure of being at Hogwarts. And that's it, the doors will be closed to all squibs forever. And why? Because I couldn't keep my temper. I'm thirteen years old and the future of all squibs rests on what I do here. Do you know how much pressure that is? I have to show everyone that squibs can still be valuable members of the Wizarding community. Not just the help." He looked to the floor as though he wished he could spit upon those words.

"So yeah, I'll take it. I don't care if they dump a bucket of botuber pus on me every morning until I graduate, I'll gladly take it. Because I'm here. And if I can get through then maybe that will make the path easier for the next one and the next one until it's not uncommon to see a squib student at Hogwarts. So what if Wycliffe dumps a cup of pumpkin juice on me, or Gryffindor covers me in spit wads, or the Slytherins hex me in the halls, or everyone calls me Squib like its my name? I'm still here. And I'll prove my worth. But don't you ever think it doesn't get to me."

For once Ceelee appeared dumbfounded. Finally she smiled, "So you're human, after all. I can respect that."

"Of course I am, what did you think I was?"

"A mouse."

"You know, mice aren't as cowardly as their reputation would have you believe, studies have shown-"

"Maybe you do belong in Ravenclaw," Ceelee interrupted. "Still, it took guts to speak to me like that."

"Well, what would you do about it? I think I'd look good with antlers, personally. Add some distinction."

"I could give you a pig snout."

"No good. I love truffles."

Ceelee laughed, in spite of herself.

"So what did McGonagall do?" Matthew asked.

"Oh, she gave us her usual lecture about fighting and assigned us detention with Hagrid tomorrow evening. Apparently, he could use a hand with the Calygreyhounds"

"Both of you? I'd think she'd want to keep you apart."

"Maybe she's hoping that by suffering together we'll find some common bond and then suddenly Slytherin and Gryffindor will get along and we'll all sit in a circle and sing kumbaya or something."

"Maybe she thinks Hagrid is the only one strong enough to separate you two. Giants are resistant to spells."

"Most likely. And she doesn't want to come up with two different detentions on a weekend."

"I think that's a given."

Ceelee grabbed her bag, "Well, I'll see you around, Matt."

"Well, weekends and holidays at least."

She smirked and left the room.

* * *

That evening, at supper, the full weight of the day's events came to bear as the headmistress announced that tomorrow's Quidditch tryouts would be closed to all but the participants.

Declan groaned loudly, "We won't be able to find out who Slytherin's captain is!"

"Or the rest of their team, for that matter," Polly added, "Or Ravenclaw."

McGonagall continued, "If I so much as see anyone near the Quidditch pitch during tryouts it will be detention and ten points from your house. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal," Tip muttered. He turned to the others. "I'm still going to see it," he whispered, conspiratorially.

"And how do you intend to do that with McGonagall on guard?" Deborah asked.

"...I don't know yet, but I will. Right, Matt? We'll see those tryouts one way or another."

"I don't recall agreeing to that," Matthew said, helping himself to another treacle tart.

"Oh come on, you're the brains of this operation!"

"And what are you? The brawn?" Deborah laughed causing the colorful beads on her miniature braids to click together.

Tip looked incensed. "Mark me, I will find a way in, whether you help me or not."

"I'm sure McLaggen and Carrow will be glad to have you join them in detention," Matthew said, slyly, glancing at the pair who were staring daggers at each other across the room. Ceelee made a move toward her robe. McLaggen readied his wand, only to lower it as she produced a shaker of salt and shot him a superior glare.

Tip's eyes grew wide, "McLaggen _and_ Carrow?! Never mind! It's not worth it. I don't want to get caught in the crossfire between those two. I'd be hexed into oblivion. Sorry, Declan." he called to the end of the table.

"For what?" Declan called back, confused. But Tip had already moved on to complaining about the amount of homework he had left from Profs. Slughorn and Jones, both of whom, in his opinion, seemed to believe they were the only teachers in the entire school.

* * *

Sunday came with a fine, cool chill wrapped in warm sunlight that beckoned Matthew to the grounds following breakfast. A number of students were already out by the lake giving it a rather crowded appearance. Matthew decided to take a stroll down by the Quidditch pitch toward Hagrid's cabin. Perhaps, if he felt up to it, he might even help Hagrid with the Calygreyhound cubs. As he passed the pitch he could just make out the Ravenclaws over the stands as they practiced. It looked as though they were warming up. He saw Taro dive down and then back up again, quaffle held neatly against his body. Behind him a dark haired girl followed with a smooth fluid motion even Taro could not manage. Without even looking Taro threw the ball backward where it was neatly received into the waiting arms of Bridget Kinealy-McConville. A bludger flew through the air at her but she dove over it as gracefully as a dolphin leaping from the water. She was less flying through the air than swimming through it. She dove below the top of the stands, obscuring her from Matthews view before popping up once more passing the quaffle between herself and Taro. Matthew watched, completely captivated as she dipped and dived and wove through the cerulean sea of sky. He was not even watching where he was walking, eyes still focused on the sky, when he walked right into the trunk of an enormous tree. Bouncing off the trunk he still had not torn his eyes from the flowing brunette ponytail and blue robes with silver lining flickering as the end waved, following her movements just a moment behind. His hand moved up the trunk, finding a low branch he lifted himself up and began to climb until he had reached the top of the tree. He lay himself down on the uppermost branch, peering over the large knotty end at the Ravenclaw Co-captain. Taro and the other members of the team had disappeared from his attention, as if they were merely white noise behind the rippling keys of a piano. He had never seen anyone fly like that, in every motion, every flicker of silver and blue, every pitch and catch she was beautiful. He lost track of time as he watched. The branch beneath him shifted in the breeze. It seemed as if even the world were moving in sympathy.

No, that wasn't the world. That was the tree.

The branch he lay upon shook beneath him as though awakening from a long slumber. It swayed slowly. Matthew held fast as he returned to his senses, he looked down at the tree, its large, club ended branches now moving about like Medusan coils. Feeling his movement the tree sprang to life. The branch he was on bucked and reeled, pitching him this way and that while he hung on for dear life. He reared onto his legs. Another fist shaped branch landed where his head had been only a moment before. He managed to grab the branch again just when he felt the smashing impact of one of the club ended branches on his side. He briefly had the sensation of flying before he opened his eyes to see Madam Pomfrey staring at him, behind her a stark white ceiling. How had he gotten inside, he wondered.

"Minerva, he's awake."

Prof. McGonagall came into view, her expression severe. "Mr. Boot."

Matthew scurried to sit up, "Yes, professor?"

"I don't know what possessed to to climb the whomping willow or how you even managed to and I do not particularly care. You are never to go near that tree again. Twenty points from Hufflepuff. You are just lucky Mr. Matsumoto and Miss Kinealy-McConville saw you flying through the air or you very well might be dead at this moment."

"They saw me?" Matthew's face burned.

"Yes. They were forced to delay Quidditch tryouts for almost an hour to bring you in to Madam Pomfrey. I hope you are proud of yourself. I put my reputation on the line for you to come to this school and you cannot even go a month without nearly getting yourself killed-" Prof. McGonagall went on in this vein but Matthew was no longer listening, rather he was wishing very much that he could somehow turn into a mouse and scurry away into some corner to never be seen by the Ravenclaw Captain and Co-captain ever again. "Detention."

He heard the word clearly over his thoughts. "I'm sorry?" he asked, his mind rushing back to the hospital bed inwhich he sat.

"You heard me. Detention. This evening, after supper, with Hagrid at his cabin. Madam Pomfrey has assured me that you will be out of bed by that time. You're lucky I don't expel you."

"Yes, professor. Thank you professor."

The headmistress turned to leave when a thought seemed to strike her, "Oh, and Boot?"

"Yes, professor?"

"You might want to wear your black Hogwarts robes, it could get messy."

"Yes, professor."

Prof. McGonagall left the room leaving Matthew still sitting in bed feeling monumentally stupid. How could he have not noticed that tree was the whomping willow? And now he was going to be stuck serving detention with Hagrid. Well, he supposed, it could be worse. Better than having to write lines, anyway. At least he'd be doing something and the Calygreyhound cubs were certainly fun to play with. He could ask Hagrid about the Forbidden Forest and the creatures within - Hagrid was known to have loads of tales. He was not the best professor so far as personal safety was concerned, but, aside from Newt Scamander, there was probably no one who knew more about the care of magical creatures than Hagrid.

He was just beginning to feel a bit better about his situation when he suddenly realized - weren't Ceelee and McLaggen also serving detention with Hagrid tonight? His spirits fell once more. He didn't know which prospect was worse, spending time with McLaggen or having to tell Ceelee how, exactly, he had managed to get detention - that was, of course, assuming they didn't start fighting and accidentally turn him into some sort of giant, tentacled slug.

* * *

After supper Matthew made his way down to Hagrid's cabin in the dimming light of evening.

"Hey Squib!" McLaggen's voice boomed from behind him. Matthew turned to see the wire-haired chaser walking not twenty meters behind him. "Heard you were practicing your flying. So how did you manage to climb the whomping willow anyway?"

"Sod off, McLaggen!" Ceelee said, approaching from the Quidditch pitch where tryouts had clearly only just finished. Unlike Matthew and McLaggen she was not wearing her black robes but green and silver Quidditch robes and carrying an old Cleansweep.

"So, they finally made you the team mascot," McLaggen said.

"Laugh all you want McLaggen, you won't be laughing when I wave that snitch in front of your nose."

"On that old broom? You'll be lucky if you even come in second. You've seen what Creevey's got this year?"

"Yeah, so Harry Potter bought him a broom, big deal. Just means he won't be as used to it."

"You talk big now, Carrow, but you just wait until Boots and Cass have their shot at you."

"I suppose we'll just have to suck it and see," Ceelee returned with a mocking glance. Then her brow furrowed and she turned to Matthew. "But McLaggen makes a good point; how did you manage to climb the whomping willow?"

"I don't know. Maybe it was asleep."

"That thing doesn't sleep," McLaggen said, "it doesn't even relax."

"You would know from how many times you, Wycliffe, and Jerry Card used to play 'Touch the Trunk'," Ceelee said.

"Touch the Trunk?" Matthew asked.

"It's a stupid game the boys in the Knight's Club play to prove how brave and manly they are," she mocked. "They try to touch the trunk of the whomping willow. No one's ever gotten closer than four meters."

"It's meant to teach courage and fortitude and skill."

"By getting the tar knocked out of you by a tree."

"Better a tree than Boots Luna."

"Well, you would be the expert on both accounts, wouldn't you?"

An entire evening of this. Matthew sighed hopelessly. This was going to be the longest night of his life.

"Ho! Ceelee! McLaggen! Boot!" the giant shadow that was Hagrid raised his huge hand in greeting to them. He was holding something large and strange in shape in the other hand, Matthew couldn't quite make out its form in the dying light. "Good ter see ya!" he called out, taking huge strides up to meet them with Fang trotting alongside. As soon as the giant boarhound scented Ceelee he tackled her, licking every part of her face. Hagrid rushed over to pull the dog off. Matthew could now see what the strange object was that Hagrid was carrying: it was a giant crossbow with a bolt as thick as Matthew's index finger. "Ah know Prof. McGonagall told yeh tha' we would be workin' wit the Calygreyhound cubs today, bu' somethin's come up. One o' me thestrals was killed yesterday."

Shock flitted across Ceelee's face. "What happened?"

"Don' know what coulda done it. Found her this mornin' Poor girl was torn apart. I know she was due to give birth bu' ah didn' see any sign o' the foal. Whatever got her musta taken it."

"Was it a werewolf?" McLaggen looked as though he were fighting to appear brave.

Hagrid looked up at the moon, it was large and fat but clearly waning. He shook his head. "Ah don' think so. But whatever or whoever it was sure wanted to make it look that way. It could be one of Greyback's lot, they're monsters no matter what phase the moon is in, but it's poachers mos' likely. Thestral foals are worth a lot on the black market, whole or in pieces. Suppose they hoped ah wouldn' find her for a few days. Bu' I been checkin' on the herd what with birthin' an' all. Ah got a new mum due any time now. If yeh listen yeh can hear her. Won' be long now." Matthew listened, faintly, in the distance he could hear the labored breathing of some great beast. "If someone is killin' the mothers an' stealin' the babies we had better find her an quick. McLaggen, you can see thestrals, right?"

McLaggen nodded.

"An' Ceelee, ah know you can. Boot, can you see 'em?"

"I... I don't think so," Matthew answered. So far as he could recall he had never seen anyone die. But then so many had died in the battle of Hogwarts he might have seen one and not even realized it.

"Oh yeah, you took the boats this year so yeh wouldn' know fer sure. Best stick close then. We'll be goin' in the forest jus' a little ways. If you'll follow me." Hagrid lit his lantern and held it aloft as they made their way toward the Forbidden Forest. "Stay right behind me, Boot. I don't wan' yeh ter get lost in the dark."

They walked for almost ten minutes following the sound of the heavy breathing. As they walked deeper into the forest the twilight was replaced by pitch darkness. Behind him, Matthew could see the pale light from Ceelee and McLaggen's wands shifting from the trees to the path and into dark crevices where strange noises seemed to emanate from what was nothing at all. The path before them was growing less and less distinct until Matthew wasn't sure whether they were still on it or had left it some ways back.

Suddenly, from out of the darkness came an otherworldly howl. A shiver ran up Matthew's spine. Hagrid instantly turned toward the sound, the lantern light illuminating his serious expression. The howl sounded again from somewhere off to the right. It was not far.

"What is it?" McLaggen asked, a slight quaver to his voice. "There are wolves in this forest, right?"

"That's no wolf," Hagrid said, soberly. "You three, take Fang and find the thestral. I'll take care of this. If yeh get in trouble send up red sparks, green if yeh find the momma." Hagrid crashed into the thick underbrush, crossbow at the ready. In a moment he had disappeared into the darkness, not even his lantern breaching the pitch black of the forest.

"How does he know it's not a wolf?" McLaggen asked, alarmed.

"The pitch of the howl," Matthew tried to calm the shaking in his own voice. He could still remember those glowing golden eyes coming from the forest, still feel their hot, moist breath on his heels. "the length of the howl... the tonal modulation..."

"Are you scared, McLaggen?" Ceelee said, her tone mocking. "Don't tell me you're afraid of werewolves?"

"No. Of course I'm not. My Uncle used to take us on werewolf hunting trips in the Black Forest. Now come on, we've got to find that thestral." He began walking in the direction of the breathing again. "Well? Or do you want to go back home to your mummy, Carrow?"

Matthew was quite sure Fang wanted to go home to his mummy, the massive dog was shaking like a leaf under his hold. Ceelee strode forward confidently, following behind McLaggen with Matthew and Fang taking up the rear. After five more minutes Matthew was certain they were no longer on the path.

"You know, now that I think about it, I guess you wouldn't be afraid of werewolves, would you? I mean, wasn't your father in league with Greyback and his followers."

"Stuff it, McLaggen." Ceelee's tone was warning. She threw her hood over her head.

"They probably think of you as an honorary cub."

"I said stuff it!" Ceelee flourished her wand as if she were about to use it when Matthew grabbed it, pointing it to the ground.

"What is that?" Matthew said, pointing to what appeared to be a flickering orange light in the darkness.

"Probably a Hinkypunk."

"Hinkypunks usually live in bogs."

"Perhaps it gets boggy down that way," she said irritably.

"No, it looks too big to be a lantern," Matthew said, squinting at the light. "I think it's a fire."

"It might be the poachers," McLaggen said. "Let's check it out."

"I really don't think that's a good idea," Ceelee said.

"She's right, we should alert Hagrid," Matthew agreed.

"You really are scared, aren't you, Carrow?"

"No, I'm just not stupid."

"Well, I'm going. You can tell Hagrid I'll be waiting for him with a bunch of subdued poachers." McLaggen strode forward into the underbrush, making surprisingly little noise for his size.

Ceelee ran after him with Matthew following behind.

McLaggen stopped, "So you decided to come along, afterall."

"I just want to make sure you don't get us all killed," she said, tramping along behind him.

As they approached the fire McLaggen held a finger to his lips. He slid soundlessly through the bushes when Ceelee caught his arm.

"What is it, Carrow?" he whispered, testily.

Concern flashed in her eyes, "I don't hear breathing anymore."

"Do you think that means they got her?" Matthew said.

"Let's hope not," McLaggen answered. "Come on." He waved them onward.

They silently slid behind a stand of trees from which they were able to see two cloaked figures sitting beside the fire. Though they were sitting it was clear they were the size of fully grown men, their bodies and faces completely obscured by their cloaks. The figure closest to them appeared quite a bit larger than the other who, even cloaked, clearly possessed a thinner build.

"He had better hurry up," the slimmer one growled nervously. "That great oaf won't be fooled for long."

"He will be here," the other man said.

"Why do we need thestrels, anyhow? They clearly are unaware of Wormtail's passage or they would have filled it in by now."

"For now. That does not mean they will remain unaware forever. A wise man leaves himself many options in case circumstances change."

"The Dark Lord did not-"

"The Dark Lord was not a wise man," the larger man interrupted. "That is why he allowed a seventeen year old boy to defeat him."

"But he was so powerful!"

"Powerful, yes. And for many power might be mistaken for wisdom. That was our mistake. We saw the signs of monomania and we ignored them simply because he was so powerful. He was not wise. A wise man does not allow himself to be driven by a fear of death." The larger man pulled his wand from his robes and made a motion that caused a large log to rise from a pile and onto the fire. As he did this, the sleeve of his robe fell down about his elbow revealing a faint scar in the shape of a skull with a snake sliding from the mouth on the pale flesh of his left forearm.

"Deatheaters!" McLaggen breathed, his eyes glinting with excitement.

"We should go," Matthew said.

"No, you should stay," a voice from behind them boomed. Fang yelped and ran away. " _Incarcerous_!"

From out of nowhere thick ropes wrapped themselves around the trio, binding them tightly.

A large man dressed in the same robes as the pair at the fire appeared. His robes were ill-fitting, tight around what was probably a barrel chest. Locks of white hair shifted in and out of view under his hood, too long to be tied but too short to obey. He pulled the group, bound tightly to each other, into the circle of firelight.

"Keep quiet, I'll handle this," Ceelee whispered.

"Look what I caught!" their captor announced. "They were sneaking around behind those trees. Should we..." he made a stabbing motion with his wand.

The other two stood. The larger one stepped forward, appraising their catch.

"We should go," the thinner man said, nervously. He began pacing back and forth in the firelight. "Hagrid might be just behind them."

"Not likely, I led him miles away. He'll be chasing shadows for the next hour at least." the white haired man bragged, then he let out a howl much like the one they had heard earlier.

"Your werewolf impression has improved."

"You can thank Greyback for that. Only thing that worthless part-human was ever good for."

The larger man bent sideways, leaning in to look at Ceelee's face. While Matthew could not see the man's eyes he watched as a smile spread across the figure's unshaven chin. With one quick movement of his wand the ropes were cut, falling around them.

"What are you doing?" the slender man cried.

"I don't think you'll want to kill this one," the larger man said, pointing his wand carelessly at Ceelee. From his tone Matthew could tell the man was still smiling.

"Why not?" the man who captured them said, moving over to see. In one fluid motion Ceelee pulled her hood from her face, her eyes burning and mouth set as though she were seriously displeased.

"Celestina!" the man with the white hair cried in shock.

"You couldn't even recognize your own favorite?" the other man said. The slender man visibly relaxed at this pronouncement.

"It's been a few years."

"Celestina Carrow. I knew your mother well," the man said in an oily tone.

"Better than your own wife, I should say," Ceelee spat the words at him. But the man just smiled.

"Who are your friends?"

"No one important. Just a few Slytherins I recruited to help with the plan."

"They know about the plan?"

"They know what I tell them."

"So what in the world were you doing out here, Celestina?" the man asked in a tone that was meant to be nonchalant but clearly demanded an answer.

"Detention. We needed knotgrass and this was the only way to get into the Forbidden Forest without anyone becoming suspicious. We also need bicorn horn but I don't suppose there's any chance we'll find one out here stalking you."

The man laughed mirthlessly. "No, I suppose there is little risk of that. And how did you come to be in detention?"

"The Fat Slug caught us stealing from the storeroom."

"Were you able to get what you came for?"

"Boomslang skin? Yes. We stole some ashwinder eggs to fool him into thinking I was planning to brew a love potion. Stupid git didn't even check the boomslang skin store once he found those."

"Very clever, Celestina, very clever indeed." The man took a lock of Ceelee's hair between his fingers. "Sometimes I find it hard to believe you are truly Amycus's daughter... Perhaps, over the holidays we might become better acquainted."

"You disgust me."

"Temper, temper. I know the new Lord will certainly be glad to add you to our number. Yes... I imagine he will be quite fond of you. You are almost as clever as he was... almost. Anyway, we have what we need so we shall be taking our leave of you." Each of the men threw on something silvery and suddenly disappeared before Matthew's eyes. The fire appeared to extinguish itself as the sound of heavy footsteps left the clearing.

McLaggen rounded on Ceelee, he looked ready to demand something but she held up her hand, watching the direction the sound of the footsteps had gone off in. They stood in silence a few tense moments before Ceelee relaxed. Pulling her wand she sent up a jet of red sparks.

"What is 'the plan'?" McLaggen demanded.

"I don't know. I made it all up," Ceelee said.

"You made it up?" McLaggen was incredulous.

"You really think they'd let a kid in on their plot?"

"Well they sure seemed to know what you were talking about."

"I overheard my mom mention something about it once."

"Well maybe you should ask your father for more details."

"Sod off, McClaggen!" Fire flashed in Ceelee's eyes, Matthew had never seen her look quite so angry. For a moment, he had to agree with Donald and Tip, she was scary.

"Who were those people, anyway? They sure seemed to know you. Friends of your family?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," Ceelee answered angrily, turning back to the way they came.

"You aren't going anywhere!" McLaggen growled. Ceelee froze. Even with her back turned she seemed to sense McLaggen had his wand trained on her. "Not until you've answered my questions."

"You wouldn't attack a person behind their back," she said.

"A Death Eater is not a person."

"She's not a Death Eater, McLaggen!" Matthew cried.

"Prove it. Show me your arm."

"I don't have to prove anything to you."

"Show it or I'll-"

"You'll what, McLaggen? Crucio me?"

"Ceelee, just show him your arm!" Matthew said.

"No. I want to know what he'll do."

"Don't tempt me, Carrow."

"Come on, McLaggen, use the Cruciatus curse on me. You know you want to." She spun on heel to face him. "You've wanted to for years. Come on McLaggen, do it. I can take it."

"Show me your arm."

"No."

The wand shook in McLaggen's hand.

"Come on. Do it," she dared.

"McLaggen!" Matthew shouted, "How thick are you? Don't you get it? She saved your life!"

McLaggen appeared torn. Finally, he lowered the wand. "I'll let you go this time, Carrow."

Ceelee yanked the sleeve from her forearm and held it up. The inner palatte was a pale white field of flesh.

"I'm no Death Eater."

McLaggen stared at the arm, stunned. His face moved as though it were working through something very difficult that it could not decide how it might express. From somewhere not far off, Matthew could hear Fang's loud barking and the crashing of a large body through the brush.

"Ceelee! McLaggen! Boot! Are yeh all righ'?" Hagrid's voice boomed through the darkness.

"Yeah, we're alright!" Ceelee answered, giving one last pointed look at McLaggen before pulling her sleeve back down.

Hagrid burst through the brush, "Ah saw the sparks an' thought you might be in danger."

"We found the poacher's camp," Ceelee said, gesturing toward the extinguished fire. "But we were too late to stop them."

Deflated, McLaggen appeared to lack the will to contradict her. Matthew wasn't sure what might be said - he was already in enough trouble with Prof. McGonagall, he had no desire to explain how they had disobeyed Hagrid's strict orders and had almost been killed by Death Eaters because of it.

Hagrid knelt down and examined the ground. He stood back up, a black expression on his face. "Three of 'em. They got the baby."

Matthew looked confused, he had not seen anything, but Ceelee shook her head, silencing him.

Hagrid shouldered the crossbow. "We'd best be gettin' back. Nothin' we can do now. I'll go out tomorrow and find the mother an' give her a righ' proper burial. Don' know what kinda monsters coul' do that to an innocent creature like that."

Matthew finally spoke as they arrived at Hagrid's cabin, knowing full well the answer he could think of no other way of alerting Hagrid to the truth without implicating them. "Do you think the poachers might be Death Eaters?"

"Probably. Don' know anyone else could do such er thing. Bu' I don' know how they could get on ter the grounds wha' with all the new defenses."

Wormtail's passage. Matthew answered him mentally. But who was Wormtail? And what sort of passage was it? They said it might be filled in... could it be a tunnel? But if it were a tunnel where might it be? The grounds were vast. It could be anywhere. If anything, it was probably in the Forbidden Forest - they would not want to risk exposure by going through the castle. Or would that even matter? His head swam with questions as he, McLaggen, and Ceelee tramped up the hill toward the castle in silence.


	8. Chapter 8: Halloween at Hogsmeade

**Chapter 8: Halloween at Hogsmeade**

"Good afternoon! Have ah got'er treat fer yeh today!" Hagrid grinned, rubbing his hands together. "Now, ah know ah promised yeh my friend woul' be commin' from Africa, but he's been delayed, so ah just switched aroun' the schedule a bit and today we have the esteemed Prof. Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank."

Midge Owens squealed with delight, clapping her hands as an older witch with close cropped grey hair and a prominent chin emerged from behind the cabin, dusting off her hands.

Hagrid continued, "Now some of yeh may have heard yer brothers and sisters talk about Prof. Grubbly-Plank bu' mos' of you prolly don' know what she is famous for."

Midge Owens threw her hand in the air so hard Matthew was almost surprised it didn't dislocate her shoulder.

"Yes, Miss Owens?"

"Dr. Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank is the author of _Flying High with Pegasi_ and _Social Development as it Relates to Hierarchy in Unicorns_!" she cried out. "She's the expert on magical equines!"

"Ten points to Hufflepuff." Hagrid grinned.

"Thank you, Hagrid," Prof. Grubbly-Plank said politely. "And to you as well, Miss Owens. Well, that was quite an introduction." She clapped her hands together. "Yes, I am Prof. Grubbly-Plank. I worked as a substitute teacher for Care of Magical Creatures while I was doing research for my recent book on the life cycle of Unicorns. Hagrid has invited me back in the hopes that I might speak to you on my findings. Now as you all know unicorns are solitary animals. If they do condescend to associate with people, they prefer the company of woman, particularly young girls who are pure of heart..."

Prof. Grubbly-Plank droned on but Matthew scarcely heard her as his head slowly fell forward, his heavy eyelids closing on their own. He had been awake almost the entire night thinking about everything he had seen in the Forbidden Forest last night. A group of girls ran off screaming towards... something... golden... He snapped back awake. His head slowly fell forward again. He was back in the woods. Three hooded figures sat around a fire. The one in the center raised a skeletal hand, beckoning him with a finger. He jolted awake as something heavy fell on his shoulders. It was Hagrid's massive palm.

"Sorry, Boot. I didn' mean ter keep yeh up so late las' night."

"It was my fault, I couldn't fall asleep."

"Well, if yeh need ter nip off for a bit, it won' bother me none. Unicorns aren' much interested in boys, anyhow."

Matthew looked over at the field to see a unicorn nudge Ceelee so hard it almost knocked her off her feet. Ceelee shook her head and gave it a pat on the nose. Midge Owens had her arms around the neck of a golden unicorn foal. Meanwhile, the boys were kept at a distance, forced to watch.

Matthew gave a weary smile. "Thanks, Hagrid. I think I will."

He found himself a comfortable patch of grass within sight of the greenhouses and fell asleep. Thankfully, this time it was visions of Quidditch that filled his dreams, until Debbie gave him a soft kick in the ribs to wake him for class.

* * *

It was a few weeks later that Matthew good a rather rude awakening when something rather large, yet still smaller than he, landed on his bed.

"Matt! Did you see? Hogsmeade trip in one week. Just two days before Halloween!"

Matthew blindly groped for the watch on his nightstand. His hand finally landing on it he pulled it forward so he could just make out the hands.

"Ugh... Tip, it's six in the morning."

"Right. That only gives us thirteen days and eighteen hours to plan." Tip pulled out a hand drawn map of Hogsmeade that looked as though an eight year old had rendered it. "We'll need to hit Zonko's first. I know right before Halloween everyone's going to want to go to Honeydukes first which is precisely why-"

Matthew pulled up his quilt causing Tip to roll off the bed onto the floor.

"Hey! What did you do that for!" Tip cried, rubbing his head.

Matthew pulled the quilt over his head and turned to face the opposite wall. "It's six in the morning. Go back to sleep."

With the trip to Hogsmeade a week off Matthew had hoped that would be the end of it, but as he walked through the common room he could hear everyone buzzing about it. A number were making plans for what was now shaping up to be an extravagant Halloween. They were discussing costumes and pranks. Some were even talking about holding a Hufflepuff costume party in the common room.

"We could do a costume contest!" a 6th year prefect named Abigail Martin cried.

"With prizes for the best costume," Head boy Quincy Koenig added.

Donald rubbed his chin, thoughtfully, "We should have it judged by year, that way the first and second years aren't at a disadvantage."

"Fair and just, as always, Donny," Shoshanna teased from behind a book of nordic runes.

"We could ask the House Elves to make us special cupcakes for the winner," Quincy thought aloud.

"And a giant Halloween Cake for everyone! At least three layers!" the twiggy 5th year prefect Erin Green cried. "With popcorn balls and candy corn and caramel apples!"

Donald smirked at his fellow prefect. "Do you mean beside the cake or on the cake?"

Erin regarded him, perplexed, "Why on the cake, of course. Otherwise it'd be pretty boring wouldn't it?"

"Just making certain."

Erin was a muggleborn who had rather... eccentric ideas about food which going to a magical school had only exacerbated. This ranged from a cream puff venus flytrap, which was only supposed to give a playful snap before allowing itself to be eaten but had gone horribly awry and now lived in the "mortal danger" section of the Greenhouses, to a turducken that would hop out of each other as three separate birds and do a dance before jumping back into each other, leaving most who saw the display without much appetite. Even now, she was working on a tree that grew all kinds of fruit, including pineapples and watermelon.

Matthew passed a few girls excitedly gabbing about costumes for the party.

"I'm going to be a Enfield, or maybe a baby Hippocampus," Midge Owens declared. "What about you, Debbie?"

"I don't know, maybe a Dementor."

"A dementor! That's too easy!"

He was glad to leave the common room for the quiet of the hallway. In the hall, alone with his thoughts, a grin spread across his face - perhaps there was something he might be able to do for the party, but whether he could get it to come off... that was the question. He hurried off towards the library where he quickly found the book he was looking for, he started writing what he would need to purchase at Hogsmeade. He stopped, chewing on his quill, he was at an impasse.

"Why not use bluebell flames?"

"What?" Matthew said, looking up into Holly's clear blue eyes.

"They get warm, but they aren't particularly dangerous. And they are waterproof so you would not have to worry about the swamp water quenching them. You're making a Will 'o the Wisp path through an instant swamp, aren't you?"

"Yeah, Hufflepuff is planning a Halloween Party and I thought that might set the mood if we put it up in the corridor. I'll have to run it by Koenig first but that sounds perfect. Thanks Holly. What are you doing here so early?"

"Studying." There was suddenly a far off look in her eye.

"Anything I can help you with?"

"No." she said simply and walked off. Though blunt, it was clear she meant no offense by it. There was no more consequence to her answer than if he had asked her the time. Terry had often mentioned a fellow Ravenclaw named Luna Lovegood who always seemed to live in a distracted world of her own - Matthew wondered if she were like Holly. As he passed by her while he was returning the book he could see she was reading from a page in a horticulture book on which was written, in large fancy script "Valerian" alongside a picture of a plant with a dense puff of waxy white flowers. He knew Valerian from his potions OWLS - it was a necessary ingredient for a Draught of Peace (a potion he had made certain to study that had ended up not being on the exam at all). They were probably doing Forgetfulness Potions in Slughorn's class. It was a simple enough potion, one of the first Terry had taught him, in fact. Though she might be trying to get ahead of the other Ravenclaws and learning how to make a sleeping draught in her first year. Though, honestly, that would probably put her at the average level for that house. Already he could see six other Ravenclaws studying at the tables, one had apparently already been down to breakfast for he had a mug of coffee and a danish sitting, almost untouched, beside his book. In a leather armchair in the corner was the Ravenclaw Captain himself, Taro Matsumoto, sipping tea between turning pages in a book with a title in Japanese and pictures of people playing Quidditch on the cover. As calmly as though it were nothing more than taking another sip of tea, Taro drew his wand and gave it a casual flick. Hector Boranos flew by his ankle into the air from behind an armchair where he had been hiding, dropping an armful of dungbombs on the floor.

Taro took another sip of tea and glanced over at Matthew. "Boot, you're leaving for breakfast, aren't you?" he said. "Would you make certain this young man gets there as well?" With a flick of the wand, Hector flew over to Matthew's side and was deposited on the floor.

Hector stood, brushing off his robes. "Just you wait till Gryffindor gets through with you, Matsumoto! You won't be so smug then."

Taro raised his brows, "I look forward to it. Though I shall have to wait for some time, unfortunately. I believe that match is currently scheduled for the end of the school year."

Hector went red in the face.

Matthew took him by the shoulder hoping to get him out of the situation before he said anything more to embarrass himself. "Come on, we don't want to miss breakfast."

Apparently Hector could not take the hint for he shot back, "Good! You won't have to worry about missing your NEWTS when Boots Luna and Cass Weasley put you in traction."

"Shhhh!" Madam Pince said, pointedly.

Taro just smiled as he turned a page in his book. "That is most fortunate. I will have to thank them for their consideration."

Hector fumed, no longer even able to produce words, only unintelligible sounds of impotent rage. Matthew led him down toward the dining hall trying his very best not to laugh.

* * *

That morning at breakfast Izzy marched up to Matthew with a rather long sheet of parchment and shoved it into his hands.

"Chocolate frogs... Cauldron cakes... Fizzing Wizzbees... Skivving Snackbox (3)..." Matthew read. "Izzy, what is this?"

"My list of things you are going to buy me when you go to Hogsmeade."

"Who said I'm going to buy you anything?"

"What's the point of having a big brother at Hogwarts if he doesn't get you things from Hogsmeade?"

He sighed, giving the expression of a put upon older brother. "I'll see what I can do. But I'm not buying you the Skivving Snackboxes; mom and dad would kill me."

"Oh come on, Matty! All the other kids have them."

"Yeah, come on Matty," Wycliffe mimicked as he passed by them. He was followed by Cass Weasley and a blond girl Matthew did not know.

Izzy shot Wycliffe a withering look. Matthew held up a soft-boiled egg and winked at her before tossing it into the air.

" _Wingardium leviosa_ ," she whispered conspiratorially, sending the egg hurtling into the back of Wycliffe's head. It hit with a loud crack.

"Hey!" Wycliffe shouted, his hand flying to the spot where a blotch of orange yolk stained his hair.

Cass and the other girl broke into paroxysms of laughter.

"They got you good!" Cass cried, hugging her sides. "What's your name, kid?"

"Izzy Boot," Izzy said proudly.

"Why don't you sit with us, Izzy? You can keep certain pests away."

"Really?" Izzy was in raptures as the two older girls led her along.

"Cass! Wait!" Wycliffe called. He turned back to Matthew, "You know they're only doing this to find out your weaknesses."

Matthew smiled, "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Just then three cups of pumpkin juice that had been levitating above the Gryffindor emptied themselves over Wycliffe's head and there was a burst of laughter from the Gryffindor table.

"Cass!" A soaking wet Wycliffe stalked over to the end of the table where Cass, Izzy, and the other girl were rolling with laughter.

"Aren't you going to go help your sister?" Donald asked, watching as Wycliffe proceeded to try to ream out the three girls.

"Nah. She can handle herself. In a match between her and Wycliffe, I'd bet on her every time." Matthew laughed as an eclair flew up the back of Wycliffe's robes causing him to spin around and try to squash whatever the thing was. From the look on his face, Matthew could tell he had struck it.

"Is your sister only a first year?" Shoshanna asked. "She's pretty powerful for being so young."

"Yeah, we like to say she stole all of my magic for herself. You should see her fly. She'll probably try out for the team next year."

"That's a proud older brother for you," Declan chimed in, grabbing Matthew's shoulders. "Ready for practice today? We're facing Ravenclaw first so we've got to be ready. They're going to throw everything they've got at you. And believe me, that's no small thing. They've seen you play and by now Taro and Bridget have probably picked out every weakness you didn't even know you had and made a dozen different plans on how to exploit every one of them. You should have seen what they did to Smith... on second thought, it's better that you didn't, that was a slaughter, he swore they were playing with an extra quaffle." Declan looked down the table to where Tip was trying to balance a spoon on a knife and failing rather spectacularly, sending random bits of food flying. "I hope that seeker's up to it."

"He's been practicing," Matthew said, neglecting to mention that said practice had involved chasing his pet long-eared jerboa around the dorm room. This nearly always led to some level of disaster and the jerboa happily hopping on it's defeated owner's head. Matthew had to admit it was vaguely snitch-like in appearance. Besides Ceelee's raven it was one of the few exemptions to the pet rule, Mr. Walker having effectively argued that if the Weasley family had been allowed a rat then surely a jerboa should be allowed. The animal was a gift from Tip's father, something of a family tradition regarding a wizard Uncle who had fought in North Africa during the war. Of course, Tip claimed that the jerboa was using its psychic abilities to evade him.

 _"I didn't know it was magical," Matthew had said._

 _"All jerboa's are magical," Tip had replied, grabbing at the little creature who easy hopped above Tip's hands a moment before they could close on it. "It's just a matter of whether they choose to show their powers. That's why they like wizards so much. Like Aladdin had a pet jerboa."_

 _"I thought Aladdin had a monkey," Matthew said, recalling the movie he had watched with Sofia and the rest of the class at her birthday party._

 _"You can't believe everything you see in movies," Tip had replied, looking in a box above the dresser._

 _"I didn't even know Aladdin was a wizard."_

 _"Of course Aladdin was a wizard! The only wizard to ever hold a Djinn in his power. They have him on a chocolate frog card in Africa."_

 _"Other countries have different cards?"_

 _"Yeah! What? D'you think Japanese wizards are interested in Morgan Le Faye cards when they have Takehaya Susanoo? My dad always picks me up a pack whenever he goes out of country. I'll show you my collection sometime," he said, climbing up the dresser toward the jerboa that had somehow gotten itself on a high shelf, "Once I catch this. little. rat!" The jerboa winced as the dresser came crashing down. It gracefully hopped down to its owner and licked Tip's cheek with its tiny pink tongue._

"Well, I hope he's been working hard. We took a real risk on him, he'd better show he's worth it," Declan said.

"He will," _I hope..._ Matthew mentally added.

* * *

That afternoon Matthew presented his plan to Quincy who was quite taken by the idea of turning the corridor into a ghostly swamp. The Fat Friar, peeking over their shoulder was giddy with the plan and suggested he might serve as guide through the swamp. Feeling quite elated that his idea had been accepted he decided that he would buy something for Holly at Hogsmeade as thanks for her help. Afterall, he was already buying half of Honeydukes for Izzy (at least, so far as Izzy believed) why not spare a few sickles for the wispy little girl who still followed him like a lost puppy?

He searched the castle for her but there did not seem to be any trace of her.

"I think she went off onto the grounds," a Ravenclaw first year said when he asked.

Not seeing her by the lake, Matthew walked toward Hagrid's cabin. As he approached the Forbidden Forest he caught sight of something shining gloriously in the morning sun. It was a large, silvery unicorn stallion, standing just outside the treeline. It seemed preoccupied with something. It was Holly! She was reading a book, the unicorn's muzzle resting upon her shoulder. In her lap a golden unicorn foal had laid its head. Matthew approached carefully but it was no use, the unicorn startled, and, seeing the boy, immediately took flight into the woods. The golden foal raised its head in alarm. Matthew stopped, palms out to show he meant no harm, but the foal staggered to its feet and followed its elder back into the forest.

Holly looked up from her book and smiled her wide snaggle-toothed grin. "Matty!" she cried happily.

"Sorry I chased away your friends, I didn't mean to," Matthew said, sitting down next to her.

"It's ok. They'll come back later. They always do."

"I wanted to tell you Quincy loved the swamp idea, particularly the Will 'o Wisp path." Matthew picked at the grass. He didn't know why he suddenly felt very awkward for what seemed such a simple question. But seeing Holly's unfortunate, threadbare robes, it suddenly occurred to him that perhaps she did not get many presents which led the gesture to feel less like gratitude and more like it might be misconstrued as pity. "Anyway, as you might know, we have a trip to Hogsmeade coming up on Saturday and," he took a steeling breath, carefully choosing his words, "as thanks for your help, I was wondering if I might buy you something. Nothing too big, but maybe a book or some sweets or something from Zonko's."

He might have just offered her a hundred Galleons the way her face lit up. Then it immediately darkened, as though some oppressive thought had stolen her joy.

"I don't need anything."

"You don't have to worry about putting me out. My sister has asked for almost one hundred things, one more isn't going to hurt." He attempted a winning smile.

"Well... if it wouldn't be too much of an imposition..." she ventured, timidly.

"Just name it."

"I've always wanted a chocolate frog." That same eager look sparkled in her blue eyes.

"I'll get you five of them."

Holly turned back to her book. "No. One will be fine."

"Then one chocolate frog it is."

Holly grinned and threw her arms around Matthew's neck. "Thanks Matty! I'll never forget this!"

"It's nothing," he said, giving her a light pat on the back. And it really wasn't. He couldn't believe a single chocolate frog was all it took to make her so happy. How gloomy had her life been before Hogwarts?

* * *

Between daily practices, which Declan insisted on if they had any hope of beating Ravenclaw, and homework the week had come and gone in an instant. Most nights Matthew collapsed into bed still wearing his Quidditch robes.

The morning of trip to Hogsmeade arrived bright and sunny with hardly a cloud in the sky. Donald and Shoshanna waited for Matthew outside the castle entrance. Ceelee was nowhere to be seen, something about an emergency Quidditch practice - though, she owned, she wouldn't have gone anyway because Hogsmeade was "kid's stuff."

"Tip's already gone on ahead," Donald said. "Something about a "secret plan." I'm going to have to turn him upside-down and shake him out before he enters the castle."

"Is that Prof. Jones?" Shoshanna asked, pointing at the grey haired witch with a large, gnarled walking stick near the front of the crowd accompanied by a very portly man with a walrus mustache. The witch stopped and stared at the sky for a long moment before Prof. Slughorn persuaded her to continue on.

"Move along, students, you don't want to be last in line at Honeydukes," Prof. Sprout said, jovially, as she bustled by them. "I heard they're expecting to sell out today."

"Not to mention Zonkos," Prof. Flitwick added, coming up from behind Prof. Sprout. "They are debuting a new line from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes just for this event."

"Is that why you're going, professor?" Matthew asked.

"Well no, not that precisely," he answered. "Wait for me Pomona!" he called out, chasing after Prof. Sprout as fast as his short legs would carry him.

Shoshanna peered into the crowd of students, "There certainly are an abnormal number of professors coming along today. I wonder why... It's not like they can't go to Hogsmeade at their leisure."

"Perhaps they are interested in the Weasley's new line," Donald suggested.

"Even the Headmistress?" Shoshanna pointed to the tall, severe faced witch who was now walking beside Prof. Jones.

"Know thy enemy?" Matthew suggested.

"Maybe..." Shoshanna allowed. "But I think there's something going on that they are intentionally not telling us. And I doubt it is a sudden interest in Sun Zhou."

Donald sighed, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. If it was they would have cancelled the trip. Let's just try to have fun. I heard from Prof. Sprout the people of Hogsmeade have been planning for this for months. Ever since the war it seems they like to go all out on Halloween. Last year they even had a skeleton parade."

As they approached Hogsmeade bewitched skeletons danced upon giant carved pumpkins which smiled, jeered, or wept at the students as the passed by. Students gasped as they came upon the entrance to Hogsmeade. It was decorated by a large black and orange balloon archway that rained confetti upon anyone who passed under it. Spooky trees stood to either side with owls and ravens calling loudly from the branches. Dog and cat skeletons raced about. Ghosts invited students to come hear the tales of their adventures scaring muggles or of their untimely deaths. Magical rats danced a can-can upon a stage of hay bales to the delight of a gaggle of first years.

Each house and shop seemed intent to attempt to outdo their neighbors. In one yard a giant, spindly-legged spider stalked about in front of its silvery web which held a number of fake bats, cats, a pegasus, and not less than three children of various ages. Another house had a rather cheeky scarecrow that walked around the front yard making somewhat comedic or rude gestures and occasionally mooning the onlookers with a double-pumpkin rear end. One enterprising shop keeper had made it appear as though a member of the Bulgarian Quidditch team had flown into their shop wall. A snitch flitting around in the inside window completed the scene. Judging by the shop's name, O'Malley's Gorcery, Matthew could guess the owner had not forgotten the World Cup six years ago. Above the town a colony of bats flew about forming shapes like grinning jack 'o lanterns and spooky trees full of eyes and then the word "Zonkos". A skeleton dog came up to Matthew and barked excitedly. Matthew gave it a pat on it's smooth, bleached white head.

Zonko's had a giant display of products from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in their shop window. Things whirred and spun and sparked and flew all around. Through the glass Matthew could already see Tip, his arms full, at the register. Matthew waved to Donald and pointed inside.

"Merlin's beard! Peruvian instant darkness powder... skiiving snackboxes... dung bombs... polychromatic hair tonic... itching powder... decoy detonators... bombtastic bombs... boxing telescopes (I can see those showing up during the astronomy OWLS)... U-no-poo - really?!" Donald looked flabberghasted. "I'm never going to sleep again, am I? Remind me why I accepted the position of Prefect again?"

Shoshanna didn't miss a beat, "Because Ernie was a Prefect and you want to be just like him."

"I think he would have reconsidered his position if he had to deal with the likes of Tip Walker."

Tip caught sight of them outside the window and waved. Then he pulled out a box and held it up for them to see with a giant grin on his face.

"Instant Blizzard?" Donald read, squinting. "Perfect. Let's go to Honeydukes. I need something to cheer me up."

Inside Honeydukes, McLaggen, Wycliffe, and Card were throwing a box of exploding bonbons as though it was a quaffle while Dorsett watched. The shopkeepers, who were already swamped at the registers could only musters quick attempts at admonitions that went either completely unheard or disregarded. Donald pulled his wand, but Shoshanna was quicker. The bonbons flew into her hand.

"That's enough, McLaggen," she said, severely.

"Hey, we were going to buy those!" McLaggen protested.

"Then do and be done with it."

"And why should I listen to you?" he said, palming the last sack of fizzing whizzbees from the hand of a Slytherin third year and hooking them up over the island of magical treats to Wycliffe. The Slytherin stared at his empty hands in tragic disbelief.

Donald fixed McLaggen with what was probably supposed to be a hard stare, "Come on McLaggen, quit it. Give the candy back. Don't make me take points from your house."

"So tough, Donald MacMillan of the famous clan MacMillan - your family has been in Hufflepuff so long I'm surprised your family crest isn't the badger. You wouldn't have it in you to take points from Gryffindor. You're too soft."

"Do it, Donnie," Shoshanna urged.

"Do it, Donnie!" Jerry Card mocked.

"Yeah, c'mon Donnie, do what your little girlfriend says," Wycliffe added in a singsong voice.

Both Donald and Shoshanna colored.

"Sh- she's not my girlfriend," Donald stammered.

"Just do it," Shoshanna pushed.

"And who are you, Cohen? Just a no name. Your parents don't even speak English," Card said.

Shoshanna bristled. "I'll have you know my ancestors were defending Prague while your ancestors were still painting themselves blue."

"Oh really now? Too cowardly to fight themselves so they made clay giants do it for them?" McLaggen said.

Shoshanna pointed her wand threateningly at McLaggen who responded by pulling his.

"You want to see what a Cohen can do, blue man?"

McLaggen was grinning but his eyes and wand never wavered, "I'd love to. Let's go."

"Come on you two, break it up before they kick us all out," Donald said indicating to the storeroom door where the owner was eyeing them ominously.

"We'll save this for later then," McLaggen pocketed his wand.

"I'll be waiting," Shoshanna replied.

"Give the candy back, Wycliffe," Donald said.

"No, Jerry was looking for some. Finders keepers." He hooked it behind his back to Jerry Card but before it got to its intended destination it was ripped from the air.

Matthew observed the bag of fizzing whizzbees in his hands with casual disinterest, "Well, look what I found. The things people just leave lying around in midair. Well, finders keepers." He passed the sack to the Slytherin who hurried of to the cash register before anything else could happen.

"It's the Squib!" Jerry Card cried. "Let's get him!" Card made to pull his wand but McLaggen held an arm out to stop it.

"Come on, let's go before they really do kick us out." He turned to Matthew, eyes narrowed. "That was very stupid of you, Squib. This isn't over."

* * *

The rest of the morning passed without incident. The cashier at Honeydukes had been generous enough to sneak a sack of Fizzing Whizbees from the back into Matthew's order as thanks for helping the Slytherin student. From her emerald green snake shaped barrette, Matthew could guess why.

By lunch time he was loaded down with bags, though he now possessed a significantly lighter pocket. Dad would pay him back, he assured himself. Dad could never resist spoiling Izzy. Not that he could blame his father for it when he and Terry were just as guilty. Like now, for instance; he thought, shuffling the bags slightly.

As they were walking toward the Three Broomsticks for lunch an icy drop of rain hit Matthew's nose.

"Huh, it didn't look like rain earlier," he remarked.

Shoshanna looked up into the steel grey sky and winced as rain drops hit her face. "It wasn't supposed to rain today."

The icy drops began falling faster, spotting the ground and their robes.

"We'd better hurry," Donald said, walking faster.

In the few minutes it took to get in sight of the Three Broomsticks the drops had turned into a deluge. A chilling mist rolled in over the hill. Prof. Jones stood outside the Three Broomsticks holding a lantern in one hand and waving students inside with the other. "Get inside students, get inside. The rain should pass soon."

Inside the Three Broomsticks they found the pub packed with students. Madam Rosmerta was squeezing and threading her way through the crowd trying to take orders as best she could.

"Over here!" a voice called. "Matt! Donny! Shosh!" They turned to see Tip waving at them from a table near the fireplace where he was sitting with Debbie and Midge Owens, each had a butterbeer in front of them. "Some weather, huh?" Tip said as the trio squeezed in, Matthew's bags littering the entire area underneath the table. "That's Scotland for ya."

Shoshanna peered out the rain covered window into the dense gray mist, where only a dot of glowing golden light allowed them to know where Prof. Jones was. "I don't know, it seems strange that it came on so fast."

"You always think everything is some dark omen," Donald said, exasperated.

"Not the good omens."

"Anyhow, I'm sure it won't be too long. We might as well have lunch as we planned."

Lunch seemed to take ages as the Three Broomsticks continued to fill. Professors moved in and out with only the occasional remark that was meant to provide reassurance but, after half an hour in cramped conditions, only served to further irritate those stuck inside.

Prof. Flitwick popped in. "Some fog!" he said genially. "You can't even see a hand in front of your face."

"When can we go?" a female student groaned.

"Don't worry, I'm sure it will move along soon. Until then, best to stay inside, wouldn't want you to get lost."

Prof. McGonagal stuck her head in, "I found these four stragglers in the alley." She ushered in McLaggen, Card, Wycliffe, and Dorsett, all appearing rather irritated at having been caught. "See to it they stay inside," she directed Flitwick.

Matthew felt the same impatience as the others. They had been there almost an hour. Despite being near the fire he was still soaked from the rain and had now started shivering. His hot butterbeer had only just arrived and, of the words that might be used to describe the drink, hot was not among them. Wasn't that the point of having magic? So little things like weather weren't such a bother? A few patches of students had begun squabbling. Suddenly, there was a loud bang and multicolored paint exploded everywhere, covering a full corner of the bar and Jerry Card who began arguing loudly with a Slytherin student, Henry Knott. Wycliffe drew his wand which was met with a drawn wand by a Slytherin girl.

Matthew, seeing Flitwick preoccupied reached for his bags and slid out when Shoshanna grabbed his wrist.

"You can't go," she whispered.

"It's just a bit of rain and fog. I'm already soaked to the skin; what's a little more rain going to do?"

"Just be careful. There's something unnatural about all of this."

"Donny's right, you worry to much."

She fixed him with an irritated glare.

"I'll be careful," he conceded.

"Alright, but if anyone asks I didn't see you go."

"You didn't see what?"

"Exactly." She let go of his wrist. "Don't blame me when you miss the Quidditch match because you're laid up with pneumonia and lycanthropy."

He flashed a smile and slipped off through the front door.

It was no challenge to sneak past Prof. Jones, her lantern was almost invisible. If anything, Flitwick had understated the fog. Matthew could scarcely see his feet in front of him. The rain had slowed considerably, now only glazing the world with a thin sheen of icy water. Matthew folded his glasses and placed them in his pocket. It was hard enough to see without droplets of waters covering the lenses. As he slowly walked on, following the dirt path only visible at his feet, he began to regret his choice, wishing to once more be beside the fireplace at the overcrowded table. But it was too late now. Even if he'd wanted to he could not find his way back.

He felt as though something were watching him, following just behind like a shadow. It was just the fog playing tricks on him, he told himself. He willed himself not to turn and look, for the moment he did he might lose his orientation. That's how people died in blizzards going to the outhouse, he thought, one turn to look back at the house and suddenly they were disoriented and they were found frozen to death days later half a mile away. He shouldn't read so much. It was making his mind play tricks on him. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being followed. He quickened his pace slightly, no longer paying as much attention to where he was going until he ran right into the stone stile of the bridge. A large, soft, fleshy thing crashed into him from behind, squashing him.

"Oof," the other boy said.

Matthew whirled around. "McLaggen?" he exclaimed, shocked. He immediately put some distance between them.

McLaggen held up a glowing wand. "Yeah. I saw you leave so I followed you."

"What for?" Matthew eyed the wand suspiciously. His hand brushed against the wand in his pocket.

"That was a brave thing you did back there at Honeydukes, stupid, but brave. I respect that. I wanted to tell you that."

"I can't respect taking things from a student younger than you. Especially when he's outnumbered."  
Now it was McLaggen who appeared shocked, though not so much as Matthew felt actually saying the words to the older boy who could easily flatten him, even without a wand.

"I know, I would've given it back. But if Slytherins don't learn to respect Gryffindors... well you know what happened."

"Just because something happened doesn't give you the right to be a bully to younger kids, no matter who they are."

McLaggen rubbed the back of his head with his hand, "I know. You're right. I know you're right. But I just see those green ties and... I don't know... it just gets to me."

"Well- ... Wait a minute. What's that?" Matthew pointed at a dark shape slowly descending from somewhere behind McLaggen's head. Three more followed. They were large, at least as large as a human, and seemed to be billowing as though they were wearing black robes. Looking above him now he could see the sky was swimming with them. As cold and miserable as he had felt only moments ago he suddenly felt much worse now.

McLaggen turned around as though in slow motion. Matthew watched his eyes widen in recognition as the shapes began approach, floating on the mist.

"Dementors!" McLaggen shouted. He grabbed Matthew's arm. "Run!"

They ran to the other end of the bridge where three dementors appeared in front of them. Matthew could hear the sickly rattle of their breathing.

" _Expecto_... _expecto patronum_!" McLaggen cried. A thin wisp of whitish smoke wafted from the tip of his wand. " _Expec_... _expecto_... Argh! Make it stop!" McLaggen dropped his wand, grabbing his head with balled fists. "Make it stop!" One of the dementors approached McLaggen. Matthew could hear a raspy sucking sound. McLaggen's arms fell to his sides, his eyes stared blindly at the creature. They were glassy, hollow.

Matthew pulled out his wand and raised it thinking of the happiest memory he could recall, the day he had received his acceptance letter from Hogwarts. " _Expecto Patronum_!"

A shaft of white lightening shot out from beside him. It coiled itself around the dementor. The other dementors fled while McLaggen collapsed to his knees. A gigantic, ghostly white adder coiled itself around the neck and arms of the dementor, its every movement seemed to be burning the flesh of the black robed creature. Matthew had never heard a dementor scream, hadn't even known it was possible that they could. Somehow the sound was even worse than the raspy breathing or the horrible sucking. It was a terrible, high-pitched, hollow sound; it was almost mechanical in its wailing. Two more patronuses appeared, a large wolf growling at the dementor's front and a fox at its back.

"This one should have known better than to try to eat and run," a large cloaked man that Matthew recognized as the white haired Death Eater laughed. He twitched his wand so that the snake tightened its coils.

Matthew could feel his hand shaking so hard it felt as though his wand mind drop from it. Or was it the wand that was shaking? Around them the fog cleared and Matthew could see the two other Death Eaters on either side of him, though they did not seem the least bit interested in him or McLaggen but were wholly focused on the screeching dementor, their wands still out.

"Well, let's see what we've caught this time," the larger man, who was clearly the leader said. He flicked his wand and the wolf disappeared. Another flick and the dementor's robes flew open revealing a skeletal chest. Matthew could count the creature's ribs through its gray, scabby flesh. "Come now, show us what you've got." He made a slashing motion and what could have been the flesh where the dementor's stomach would be gave way. A translucent sack popped out, hanging like some sort of horrible blackish bubble in which strange spheres swam, like tadpoles in a brackish pond. "So who do we have here?"

The man raised his wand and the spheres began to glow. Distorted faces appeared on them as they passed the front of the pouch.

"Huh," the white haired man muttered. "Justinian Timmons. Didn't know he had a soul to lose. That butcher."

"You're one to talk."

"Hey, I, at least had style. And I didn't do pureblood kids."

"What about that girl in Dulwich Village?" the larger man suggested slyly.

"That was Amycus and Alecto, I was just there to keep the parents in line. It was only supposed to be a couple fingers, nothing that couldn't be grown back. Just enough to convince her mummy and daddy we were serious. But they were having too much fun; got a bit carried away."

"A bit?"

"Well, it worked didn't it? We got Scrimgeour. He never suspected a thing until his own secretary stunned him. Wish I could have been there to see the look on his old lion face. Thought he'd thought of everything: constantly checked all of his employees for the Imperious curse, surrounded himself with only those who had fought against the Dark Lord in the first war. Didn't even think we could turn one of his men. And his secretary still got to keep his son. Not that he gets to see him being in Azkaban and all."

"I'm sure he finds a great deal of consolation in that." Matthew could tell the man was smiling as he said the words. A chill ran down his spine. The larger man let his wand drop. "He's not here." He turned to the smaller man. "Would you like to do the honors?"

"Perhaps both of us," the smaller one answered, pulling up his wand so that the fox disappeared. "There are too many professors around, I'd like it to be quick."

"Good idea. On three then. One... two... three..."

The two men raised their wands to the gaping hole that was the dementor's mouth.

" _Expecto Patronum_!" they shouted in unison.

A bright white light shot from their wands into the dementor's screaming mouth. For a moment all was silence and Matthew wondered if whatever they had done had worked. Then a crack appeared in the dementor's shoulder and bright white light poured out. Another crack and another appeared until great lines of light cut across the creature's body. It tilted its head back in a silent scream as its body was torn apart. In only a matter of seconds it lay, a pile of ash upon the ground. The sky around had visibly cleared as the death eaters sheathed their wands.

Finally, the leader turned to Matthew, "You're Celestina's friend from the wood." He surveyed Matthew. "It figures she would choose a Hufflepuff - there is something to be said for loyalty to friends. The Dark Lord forgot this. It was one of his gravest mistakes. Give her my regards."

"I will if you'll tell me your name." It was perhaps too brave a move, foolhardy even. He could scarcely believe he had spoken the words. But it was worth a try.

The larger death eater smiled, Matthew could see his unshaven chin from beneath the hood. "I like you. You attempted a patronus charm to save your friend when a wiser person would have run and saved themselves - or, at least, tried to run. You're only a third year aren't you? A bit too young for that kind of magic, thought you might learn under pressure, I suppose. We may have use for you, when you are older. Don't worry about my name, Celestina will know who I am." He glanced over toward McLaggen who was huddled in a ball on the ground. "Now then, you had best attend to your friend. I don't have any chocolate to give - there's no need to carry it when the dementors fear you. Let's go."

The three men whirled quickly on the spot and with a loud bang disapparated into thin air.


	9. Chapter 9: Gryffindor vs Slytherin

**Chapter 9: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin**

Matthew rushed to McLaggen's side and pulled out a chocolate frog, tearing it from the box. He broke off a back leg and offered it to McLaggen, who stared straight ahead.

"Here, eat this."

McLaggen whimpered pathetically, blue eyes still staring blankly from his ghostly white face.

"This will make you feel better," he said, holding the chocolate frog leg to McLaggen's pale, chapped lips.

McLaggen ate it. It seemed his eyes refocused some and the color began to return to his face. Ten minutes and two frogs later he was able to sit normally again.

"Boot! McLaggen! What in the name of Morgana are you doing here!" Prof. Jones cried. Matthew turned around to see a group of teachers running toward them.

McGonagall reached them first, her thin lips pressed tightly together with a rim of white around them. "What happened here?" she demanded more than asked.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Matthew began.

"It was my fault," McLaggen interrupted. "I got bored of waiting and decided to go. I thought it was just rain. If Boot, here, hadn't followed me, I don't know what would have happened."

"You boys are very lucky. There are few who have seen a dementor storm and lived to tell about it. I don't know how you managed it. Perhaps this incident will teach you to trust your professors. We did not live this long charging headlong into danger. Twenty points from Gryffindor."

"But headmistress," Matthew attempted.

"Don't think you are off scott free, Mr. Boot. You should have alerted a teacher when you saw Mr. McLaggen had left. It is not for you to take matters into your own hands. Fifteen points from Hufflepuff."

"Minerva, come have a look at this," Flitwick said, probing the ragged gray ashes which has once been the dementor with his wand.

"You boys are dismissed. Boot, take Mr. McLaggen to see Madam Pomfrey. He'll need more than a few chocolate frogs after what he's been through. Oh, and Boot? Come see me in my office after you have seen to Mr. McLaggen." Prof. McGonagall waved them off. McLaggen leaned heavily against Matthew, his arm wrapped around Matthew's shoulder as the two boys staggered off with Matthew's bags divided between them. Matthew managed a glimpse back as they turned the corned to see McGonagall crouched before the strange ashes. He shivered.

They had walked for a few minutes before McLaggen spoke up.

"You cold?" McLaggen asked.

So McLaggen had noticed how badly Matthew was shivering. "Yes."

"So am I. I can't wait to get back to the fireplace in the common room in a nice flannel robe with my cat."

"You have a cat?" Matthew surveyed the other boy, incredulous.

"Of course I have a cat. A fat orange and yellow tabby, named Carbucketty. He's older than I am if you'll believe it. I've had him my entire life. Doesn't do much more than sleep these days."

"I would have figured you for an owl."

"I had an owl when I first came to Hogwarts."

"What happened?"

McLaggen's face darkened. "I heard the Carrows ate him when Cormac and I disappeared. I honestly never liked that owl, it always bit me, but I still would have preferred it not go that way. Anyway, Carbucketty is lots better. I never was an owl person. What do you have?"

"Just my brother's hoot owl, Tycho. He's got a bit of a stubborn streak but he's good in a pinch. He can find anyone. Does explain why he sent Tycho back a month early with a letter that said nothing more than to keep him home."

"Yeah. That move Terry pulled, standing on the table during dinner and telling everyone that Harry Potter had broken into Gringotts and escaped, that was something. It took a lot of guts. Wish I could have seen it."

They walked for a little in silence.

"Hey, thanks for taking the blame for me," Matthew finally said.

"It was nothing. Hey, do you play Wizarding chess?"

"The pieces won't work for me, I have to play muggle chess."

"What's muggle chess like?"

"Basically the same thing, but the pieces don't move."

"That sounds a bit boring."

"I'll give it's not quite as exciting, but it's still fun."

"Well, maybe sometime you can come up to the Common Room and you can show me this... muggle chess."

Matthew eyed him suspiciously. "Not to be rude, but why are you being so nice to me?"

"You can't do magic."

So it was pity. "Yeah."

"That death eater said you tried to use a patronus charm to defend me."

Matthew wasn't quite sure where this was going. "He did. I didn't know you heard him."

"I did. He thought you were just trying something too advanced, but you can't do magic and you know that. So you knew it would fail and you tried anyway when anyone else would have run."

"In all fairness, there were hundreds of dementors around, I probably would not have gotten far."

"Don't lie. You were trying to draw him off me by pretending to be a threat."

"So what if I was?"

"Gryffindors prize courage. Maybe McGonagall was right about you." McLaggen stared at the ground. "And maybe you were right about me. And maybe that's not the kind of person I want to be, anymore."

"McLaggen! Boot!" a rough voice boomed from just down the sloping green. It was Hagrid! "Minerver' jus' sent word ter meet yeh." Hagrid surveyed the two boys. With the much larger, much paler McLaggen leaning heavily against Matthew's spare frame, both sopping wet and shivering, they must look quite the sight, Matthew realized.

"Wha' happened ta yeh? I've seen drowned rats 'at looked bettern' the pair a yeh. Here, give 'im over." Hagrid eased McLaggen off of Matthew's shoulder.

"Dementors." Matthew answered.

"Dementors! But they're not supposed ter' - they're supposed ter be on the moors!"

"Seems someone forget to tell them," McLaggen attempted a wan smile at his own joke.

"The Ministry'll be in a right state when they hear abou' this! Dementors in Hogsmeade!"

Matthew attempted to straighten his clinging robes. "Well, they're gone now."

Hagrid was mystified, "Gone?"

"Yeah, I don't think they'll be coming back again any time soon either."

McLaggen gave a convulsing shake in Hagrid's arm.

"You okay, McLaggen?" Hagrid asked.

"Yeah, just a bit cold."

"We'd best get yeh both inside an' warmed up afore yeh catch cold."

Matthew almost had to run to keep up with Hagrid's massive strides.

Hagrid burst through the hospital wing door and into the room, accidentally upending a spindly silver table onto the bed of a student whose ears were three times the size they were normally supposed to be and causing Madam Pomfrey to have to quickly levitate the bottle and direct its contents back inside.

"Hagrid! How many times do I have to remind you to watch where you are going?" she said, crossly, as the bottle stoppered itself.

"Ah'm sorry, Poppy. We've had a dementor attack." Hagrid said, easing McLaggen onto an empty bed.

Panic flitted across Madam Pomfrey's face. "Dementors? Here?"

"They're gone now."

Madam Pomfrey bustled about McLaggen's bed. "Good heavens! You're soaked!" She waved her wand and steam rose from McLaggen's clothes. " _Accio_ Chocolate." A monstrous chunk of chocolate flew across the ward. She pulled a small hammer and chisel out of her pocket and handed them to McLaggen. "Here. You'll need to eat the whole thing. And you," she rounded on Matthew.

"I'm fine, I had part of a chocolate frog."

Madam Pomfrey still insisted on giving him a once over. "You'd best change your clothes before you meet with the headmistress."

"Could you grab a change of clothes and a new robe for me as well?" McLaggen called out. "The password is 'magisterium.'"

"Sure," Matthew said, turning to leave.

"Hey, Squib!" McLaggen said. "Catch!"

Matthew spun around in time to catch a hunk of chocolate.

"You know you only had a leg. Now come on, eat the rest. You look as though your best friend ditched you."

"Thanks, McLaggen."

"Call me, Liam. See you in a few. And bring your chess set."

Matthew left the room, heading toward the Hufflepuff common room. He was fairly certain his expression had nothing to do with dementors. What was he going to tell McGonagall?

* * *

After he had changed into fresh robes he grabbed the box containing his chess set. It wasn't until he was walking up the second staircase that he realized he hadn't a clue where the Gryffindor common room was located. He knew that it was up high, in one of the towers. What he wouldn't give for Tip right now. A thought that was quickly followed by one detailing exactly the type of chaos Tip would wreak upon the Gryffindors were he to know their password. He could see it now, fireworks spinning about in a blizzard of itching snow.

And, speaking of chaos, there was Hector Boranos hiding, badly, behind a tapestry trying to stifle a laugh, and there was his sister, skipping down the hall toward him.

She grinned when she saw her brother. "Matt! Did you bring my stuff? Oh, just a moment." She waved her wand and the tapestry rolled itself to the ceiling with Hector inside it. There was the sound of a muffled explosion and purple smoke puffed out of the tapestry ends. The muffled sound of Hector coughing and gagging could be heard from above. Izzy peeked around Matthew, seeing the box she took it from him and opened it up gleefully but, finding only plastic chess pieces, she shoved it back into his hands. She glared at him with a disappointed pout. "Where are they?"

Matthew was so preoccupied with finding the common room he stared at her in confusion, "Where is what?"

"My candy! My toys! My presents! Where are you hiding them, Matt?"

Now he knew what she was on about. He smiled wryly at her. "When did I say I was bringing you anything?"

"You said you would. You promised!"

"I said I'd see. I never promised you anything."

"Yes you did!" She looked as though she might cry.

"Fine, fine. I must've left them in the Hospital Wing with McLaggen."

"McLaggen!" she gasped. "What's he doing in the hospital wing? It was that horrible Carrow girl wasn't it? She didn't blow him up like McCraig?"

"No, no - who's McCraig?"

"The boy the Carrow girl blew up. Everyone knows about him!"

"I've never even heard of him. You shouldn't believe every rumor you hear."

"But it's true! She's an evil dark witch and she wants to bring You know Who back from the dead and and..."

"She blew up some student you've never even heard of."

"Exactly!"

"Ceelee wasn't even in Hogsmeade. They had Quidditch practice. We got attacked by dementors."

"You got attacked by dementors? How are you alive? Did McLaggen fight them off?" She waved her wand in imitation, " _Expecto Patronum_!"

"First, dementors suck out your soul, they don't kill you. And second... well... close enough."

"That is so cool! Did he cast a full corporeal patronus? What did it look like?"

"Hey, he wanted me grab a change of robes for him. Could you show me where the Gryffindor common room is?"

Her eyes narrowed, "How do I know you aren't in league with Tip Walker? I know you two are friends."

"Yes, we are. But Tip already knows where the common room is. What am I going to do? Spread chess pieces on the floor and hope someone slips?"

"Well, why do you have that chessboard with you?"

"McLaggen asked me to bring - Look. If he hadn't sent me would I know the password?"

"Fine. What's the password?"

"Magisterium. Are you satisfied?"

Izzy smiled haughtily as though to say she was. "Its down two hallways, up the wooden staircase, go under the tapestry of Dawyien the Dour at the Fairy feast and then it's a right, a left, two more rights, go down the stone stairway, follow the hallway, make a right at the painting of cats playing parcheesi, then down that hallway and the next then go up the stairs and its down that hallway behind the portrait of the fat lady."

"So just go down the hall and take a left up the stairs?"

Her expression answered his question.

"Why do you have to be such a know-it-all?"

"Well, because you took all the magic. I'll see you later, Izzy."

"Wait! Can I come too? Liam McLaggen is so cool."

Matthew wasn't sure how he felt about Izzy thinking McLaggen was cool considering how he'd bullied that Slytherin kid only hours ago. He wasn't too keen on his little sister looking up to a bully. "Not unless you want to see Prof. McGonagall with me."

Izzy's eyes widened, "No thanks!" She quickly ran off in the other direction.

"Izzy!" Matthew called out.

She turned. "What?"

"Did you forget something?" He pointed up to the struggling mumbling tapestry.

"No."

"Izzy," Matthew said in his best imitation of their father.

"Fine." She flicked her wand and the tapestry unraveled, depositing a rather pungent Hector onto the stone floor as Izzy flounced away.

* * *

Matthew walked back to the Hospital Wing. He was still going over in his head what he could possibly tell the headmistress. How could he tell her what had happened without having to admit he had lied about what had happened in the woods? It was not as though he was much of a liar to begin with.

As it turned out, he did not have long to think of a story, for Prof. McGonagall was leaning over McLaggen's bed, her face still drawn and pale. She turned at the sound of the door creaking open.

"Ah, Mr. Boot. My office. Now." She turned and strode toward the door.

"Yes, headmistress." Matthew said, quickly passing the clothes off to McLaggen who nodded appreciatively. "Are you feeling better?" he whispered.

"Yes," McLaggen said.

"Come along, Mr. Boot, you will have plenty of time to visit with your friend after."

"Yes, ma'am."

She led him, without a word, to the stone gargoyle. "McGregor." she said, and the stone gargoyle jumped aside revealing a long spiral staircase. Matthew took a step onto it an was startled to feel it move beneath him like an escalator. The steps deposited him into a room filled with desks and papers and spindly legged silver instruments. Above him portraits of the former headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts whispered pointedly to each other. A large wardrobe sat in the corner with bluish light emanating from a crack between the doors. She sat down at her desk and opened up a tin. "Would you care for a biscuit?"

"No, thank you."

"Suit yourself. Now then, tell me what happened on the bridge. And do try to tell the truth this time."

"How did you know?"

"Do you honestly think I would believe two students could kill a dementor? You are very clever, Mr. Boot, but you are not that clever."

"It was my fault, it wasn't McLaggen at all. I left and he followed me. I'd probably be dead if it wasn't for him." And the entire story tumbled out from Matthew's lips. Everything. From meeting the Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest to the way they had used their patronuses to kill the dementor.

"You say they were hunting the dementors?"

"Yeah, that's what it sounded like. They... they were looking for someone... a certain soul."

"A soul? Did they say whose?"

"No. But I know that dementor didn't have it. So they killed it."

"Did you recognize them?"

"No. They were wearing hoods. And they seemed to be very careful to not use their names. One of them, the biggest, has white hair, though, if that helps."

"It might." She shook her head, "I never thought there would come a day when I would feel sorry for a dementor. You may go, I have work to do."

"Is that it?" Matthew asked, bewildered.

"Oh yes. You will be serving two weeks of detention with Prof. Sprout."

"Two weeks? But what about Quidditch practice?"

"Perhaps next time you will listen more closely to instructions. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, headmistress," Matthew said, and he stepped on the staircase. Just as he did he noticed a strange flash of light from one of the portraits. He tried to see who it had come from but it seemed, that portrait, was conspicuously empty. Had they just left?

* * *

"Hey, you're back. How'd it go?" McLaggen genuinely seemed glad to see Matthew. The Gryffindor was sitting upright in bed, still working on the giant chunk of chocolate before him.

"Two weeks of detention. She knew you were covering for me."

"Yeah, there's no fooling her. But it doesn't mean you can't try. I got a week. And right before the big match against Slytherin! Creevey's going to kill me when he finds out. Or he'll have Boots Luna do it." He popped another piece of chocolate into his mouth and grimaced. "I never thought I could get tired of chocolate. Take another piece."

"No thank you."

"Come on, help me out here. Madam Pomfrey won't let me leave until this whole thing's gone."

"Fine, give me another bit."

McLaggen handed him a chunk. "Now, are you going to show me how to play muggle chess or not?"

They played for almost an hour. By the third round they had replaced the pawns with hunks of chocolate that you had to eat when you took one. Matthew had never checkmated someone with only pawns before.

"Winner eats all," McLaggen said with a triumphant grin.

"I thought that was the loser."

"Well then what have you won?"

"The opportunity not to eat anymore chocolate," Matthew quipped.

The boys laughed.

"Hey, you should come to a Knight's Club meeting sometime," McLaggen said.

"I think you're forgetting, I can't use magic."

"Yeah, well, you can still come anyway. I'm the leader, afterall, so what I say goes."

"Maybe, if I can find the time." Matthew popped a chocolate pawn into his mouth. "Declan has us practicing every free moment for the Ravenclaw match."

"Don't even talk to me about Ravenclaw." McLaggen put a hand to his brow. "Slytherin's bad enough. Have you seen them play? Matsumoto used to go to Mahoutokoro in Japan until he was ten when his father was transferred to London for work. They have the best Quidditch teams in the league - the school practically manufactures championship players. I heard they have entire courses devoted to Quidditch strategy. They didn't just win the cup last year, they crushed us. Just thinking about it makes me depressed." He took a chocolate pawn and ate it. He turned to the table where the chunk had been only to see a few crumbs and the little wooden hammer. "Oh. Looks like that was the last of it."

"Good." Matthew answered.

"Hey! Madam Pomfrey! I finished the chocolate! Can I go now?" McLaggen shouted.

Madam Pomfrey poked her head out of her office and glared at him. She waved toward the door.

"I think that means I can go."

"I'd wager so," Matthew said.

McLaggen got up and pulled on his robes over his uniform. "Thanks Squib, I'll see you around. You'll be at the match this weekend, right?"

"If I don't somehow manage to get any more detentions."

"Well try not to. You won't want to miss this. I can't wait to see the look on Carrow's face when Creevey gets the snitch."

Matthew's smile faltered, "Yeah. I'll be there."

* * *

Izzy was ecstatic with her gifts and quickly took to proudly showing them around the table to the early dinner crowd as the older students began to trickle in from Hogsmeade. Not wanting to answer questions from Shoshanna or his other friends, Matthew pocketed the chocolate frog meant for Holly and went up to the library, expecting to find her there.

He searched among the stacks but there was no trace of the pale little girl with the straw colored braids. Not seeing any other options, he decided to look in the place he had last found her. She was sitting alone this time, reading an over large, leather bound book without any distinctive markings on the cover, not even a title. It appeared terribly old. He sat down next to her, but she still appeared lost in her reading. He watched her for a moment. She was so intently focused on the words; it was hard to believe she was only eleven. He reached into his pocket.

"Hey Holly, I brought your frog." He produced the colorful box.

She started. "Matty! She cried with a huge grin. He passed her the box. "Thank you!" The way she held the thing you would have thought it were made of precious gems. She stared at the box admiringly, her finger stroking the smooth cardboard.

"Well, go on, open it. But mind the frog, they have one good jump in them."

She stared up at him with her glassy blue eyes. "I don't know if I should. I don't want to ruin the pretty box."

"Well, if you open it carefully, it should be okay. Come on, I want to know what card you got." He attempted to sound cheerful though, seeing the way she treated the gift, as though it were something unspeakably holy, cheerful was the last thing he felt. Had she ever gotten a gift before?

She carefully worked the corners until the package gave way. As she opened the lid an explosion of brown flew out.

"Woah! There it goes!" Matthew cried. "Better catch it."

Holly giggled as she scrambled after it, catching it just before it could make a bit for the Forbidden Forest. It turned solid again in her hand.

"Now let's see what card you got."

Holly pulled out the card. Instantly her visage contorted into a look of pure hatred and revulsion. Her eyes flashed with wrath. She threw the card on the ground beside her. Then, just as suddenly, her expression was back to normal as though it had never happened. Matthew rubbed his eyes. Had he really seen what he thought he had?

"Thank you, Matty." Holly hugged him and stood. "I'm going to take this to my room and eat it." She picked up her book and scampered away, leaving Matthew staring, bewildered, after her.

He leaned his back against the tree. It had been quite a day, he must have been imagining things - a latent effect of the dementor attack. Though he had never known dementors to cause hallucinations. But then, their effects on squibs were not well documented. He let out a deep breath, letting his hands fall beside him on the grass. He felt something strange under his right hand, something smooth and slippery, like paper. He looked down to see the discarded Chocolate Frog Card in the grass underneath his palm. He picked it up. He had seen the face hundreds of times - there wasn't a wizard in all of Britain who didn't know the untidy black hair, green eyes, and lightning bolt shaped scar of the young man who smiled back from the card. Underneath the picture read the words:

Harry Potter

The Boy Who Lived

* * *

The morning of the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin dawned chilly and bright, a crisp frost coated the grounds giving it an ethereal appearance.. Outside, Hagrid was at work defrosting the brooms and drying the seats. Matthew was eating breakfast when Debbie and Tip came down. Debbie was wearing her hair in two puffs, one on each side of her head, and each held in place by scarlet and gold Gryffindor clips. Tip was wearing a Gryffindor scarf. In fact, most of Hufflepuff seemed to be overtly supporting the Gryffindor team with not even a trace of green among them; even Shoshanna wore a Gryffindor tie around her neck.

Declan came in and looked toward the Gryffindor table. He sat himself across from Matthew, taking an apple from one of the giant golden owls filled with fruit. "Good. They're not here yet," he said, taking a bite of the fruit.

"Who's not here?"

"You'll see."

Suddenly there was the roar of a lion. All heads snapped to the main entryway where Jerry Card stood with a giant lion's head perched upon his head. It roared again, loudly. Jerry Card strode in followed by Dennis Creevey in full Keeper's kit, carrying his Firebolt in one hand. His mien was serious, as though he were marching into battle. Behind him were Boots Luna and Cass Weasley. Unlike Creevey, they appeared to be enjoying themselves immensely. Their white shirt tails hung loose from under their sweaters, as did their collars, which had been unbuttoned to the second button and opened wide. They had rolled up their left sleeves to the shoulder and each had their red and gold tie tied around their left bicep. They had a line of red painted beneath one eye and gold underneath the other. In their left hand they carried their brooms, and in their right, their beater's bats which they lifted to the applause of the Gryffindors, as well as a number of Hufflepuffs. Tip let out a wolf whistle as they passed. Then came the three chasers in their scarlet Quidditch robes with McLaggen in the lead, flanked by Ben Dorsett and Byron Wycliffe, each looking just as serious as their captain. In the rear was the keeper, Regina Prince, in full uniform and shoulder pads, Nimbus in one hand and helmet in the other.

Jerry Card stood at the empty end of the table where the others took their places and then sat as one while the lion roared one last time.

"Luna Lovegood's lion hat." Declan explained. "Ginny Weasley found it after she was kidnapped. I still remember the first time they came in like that. It was right after the Holidays. So many of the students had disappeared. The Creevey's had gone into hiding. The Carrows had spent half the year trying to tear Gryffindor apart any way they could. Spies, rumors, insinuations. And it was working - most of Gryffindor didn't trust each other. Ginny and Neville fought to keep it together as best they could. Back then the Carrows were still holding Quidditch matches, trying to pretend like everything was normal. Then Ginny walked in the morning of the match with that thing on her head followed by the rest of the team in full uniform, following her in solidarity, staring daggers at the Carrows as if challenging them to try and stop her. And then they just sat down in complete silence. You could have heard a pin drop. It wasn't just an act of defiance - it was revolution! The whole of Gryffindor united in that moment. The game was wild and when Gryffindor somehow pulled out a miraculous victory it just served as a rallying moment uniting the House once more. Since then it's become sort of a tradition for the teams to come in as a group on the morning of the game."

There was a strange hissing sound from the entryway.

"And here comes Slytherin," Declan said.

A cloud of silver smoke filled the doorway. A giant emerald green smoke serpent rose within it to full height, snapping at the air. It slithered along the floor, green and silver smoke flowing from it as it moved. It was followed by a young man in emerald chaser robes, a fifth year by the look of him. He had golden brown hair parted to the right. His face was handsome and open with a slight roundness about the cheeks. He neither looked serious nor particularly glad, but the expression he regarded the hall with was not entirely unpleasant. Still, there was something about him that left Matthew uneasy.

"Merlin's beard! It's Reginald Jenkins!" Declan cried, completely floored.

"Who?" Matthew asked.

"Exactly! He was only in the reserves last year! This is... What in the name of Morgan le Faye is going on!"

Matthew could tell Declan wasn't the only one left flabbergasted. Loud conversation had broken out at the Gryffindor table as well with Wycliffe standing and shouting that this could not be legitimate before Creevey pulled him down and assured him that it was.

"I don't understand, what's the problem? If he was just in the reserves doesn't this benefit us?" Matthew asked.

"Well it does and it doesn't. We prepared and trained based on who they might put up as Captain. We had a basic idea, given seniority and skill, who they might choose. And now all of that preparation is out the window. We've never even seen him play. It's like we're flying blind. We don't even know why he was chosen."

Clearly, Slytherin had hoped for this effect for Reginald Jenkins stood where he was, watching the tumult with a slightly bemused expression on his face, for a full minute before stepping into the room. Close behind him was a rather ugly young man with cropped black hair and a darkly pock-marked face.

"That's Darius Flint. We were pretty sure he would be Captain, his cousin was the Slytherin team Captain way back in '91. There's Kevin Nott behind them."

Matthew watched the procession as the Beaters, two gorilla sized sixth years, apparently twins by the look of them, passed by and then there was a gap in the line before the Keeper. It took Matthew a moment to realize there was no gap, he was simply looking too high up. There was Ceelee, tiny compared to her teammates (though he had never recognized her as such before), in full Seeker's kit, her expression dark as he had seen her when leading the Slytherins through the hall on the first day. The Slytherins sat down at the table as the smoke serpent dissipated around them.

Polly stood from where she was sitting at the other end of the table and came over to Declan.

"Did you see that? Reginald Jenkins!" She was so upset her Scottish brogue almost overcame her words. The two fell into feverish discussion, while Matthew attempted to keep up, but soon found himself lost in Polly's accent as she and Declan moved pieces of fruit and salt shakers as though they were players on a Quidditch field.

As he was just tucking in to a rather plump sausage, Matthew felt a blow to his back. He turned just in time to see Liam McLaggen grinning as he passed by. "Hey, see you at the game, Squib!" he called and let out a whoop.

Shoshanna reached for her wand, but Matthew stopped her.

"No, it's okay." Matthew said.

She raised her eyebrows at him but released the wand.

* * *

After breakfast they traipsed out into the grounds. Tip was intentionally walking on the grass rather than the path, his feet crunching on the frozen grass, looking back at his footprints in the frost with a child-like glee.

Donald whispered to Matthew, "He always gets this way. It's only his third real winter. Wait until the first snow. Last year he used magic to create a giant snowman as tall as Gryffindor tower. It looked like it was coming to eat them - he even gave it icicle teeth. Of course, there was no snow left anywhere on the grounds because of that..."

Declan waved them over to join he, Polly, and Adrian.

"Good morning, Hogwarts!" a voice boomed over the crowd. "Welcome to the first Quidditch match of the year. Gryffindor verses Slytherin! Two great teams with no love lost between them. I'm your announcer, Sean Brady."

Matthew's head snapped toward the announcer's booth where, sure enough, their new beater, Sean Brady, was seated. "That's Sean!" he gasped.

"Oh yeah, I suppose we forgot to mention that," Declan laughed. "Brady was one of the announcer's last year. He did such a good job they offered him the position when Connor Dell graduated.

"Here come the teams: For Gryffindor we have Team Captain Dennis Creevey playing Seeker. Co-Captain Boots Luna will be playing Beater. I wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of her bat. Then we have Beater Cassandra Weasley." Cass walked out blowing kisses to the audience. They hollered. She pumped her fist in the air a few times before joining Boots Luna. "Always the charmer, Cass. Now we have the Chasers: Liam McLaggen, Byron Wycliffe, and the new acquisition Ben Dorsett. This will be Dorsett's first match, let's give him a warm round of applause." The crowd went wild, particularly the Gryffindors. Only the Slytherins booed. Matthew noticed the Gryffindor stands were full of waving signs, red and gold facepaint, and even one older boy who had decided to brave the cold and had painted a giant gold lion surrounded by red on his chest. "And finally, the new keeper, Regina Prince. Let's have a hand for her as well."

The Gryffindor players lined up on the side of the field, standing with their hands clasped in front of them, as though at-ease.

"And now for the Slytherin team. First up, in the role of chaser, we have Captain Reginald Jenkins. Reginald Jenkins is a surprise choice having been a reserve last year without having played a single match. This is a big gamble for Slytherin and we'll see if it pays off. Next up we have Co-captain Darius Flint and Kevin Nott, filing out the other two Chaser positions. Then we have Chris and Owen Sulkowski - don't let them fool you, they are faster then they look. Why, there was this one time when I swiped a muffin from their table-"

"A-hem!" Prof. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Ah, right, get on with it. This year they are debuting a new Seeker, Celestina Carrow." The stands exploded with boos as Ceelee took the field except in the Slytherin stands where students cheered loudly, producing signs with pictures of a raven perched on the carcass of a lion. "And finally, we have Keeper David Fallon. Last year he proved himself a force to be reckoned with. Let's see if he's got it in him this year."

The teams took their positions on the field with McLaggen and Jenkins facing off. Madam Hooch blew the whistle, launching the quaffle up in the air.

"And they're off! Well, I think they're off. What is Jenkin's doing?"

Despite the whistle having been blown, Jenkins was still on the ground. McLaggen stopped for a moment and stared at him, stunned. Which had, apparently been just what Jenkins had expected him to do.

"Oh! that was a nasty hit to the back of McLaggen's head with the bludger. And he's dropped the quaffle right into Jenkin's hands."

Jenkins gave the dazed McLaggen a salute before kicking off from the ground. Shaking off the hit, McLaggen charged after him.

Declan swore. "I've never seen a play so dirty! Foul!"

"Jenkins passes it to Flint, Flint to Nott, and he's got the shot... Blocked by Regina Prince! Good show, Regina!"

Regina had managed a neat little spin where she knocked the quaffle away with the tail of her broom.

"And it's Dorsett with the save! He passes it to Wycliffe and oh! That was too close for comfort! Wycliffe drops the quaffle and it's recovered by Flint."

Nott and Jenkins had flown directly at Wycliffe, leaving only just enough space between them so as not to actually foul him as they passed on either side of him causing him to instinctively try to cover himself from the foul anyone would have been sure was coming and, in doing so, he lost his grip on the quaffle. Flint sped towards the goalposts when suddenly he was sent spinning out of control by a well aimed bludger.

"That was Cass Weasley with the hit! McLaggen has the quaffle now! He's taking it all the way and... GOAL! Gryffindor scores the first goal of the game!" The stands erupted. Matthew was on his feet cheering as McLaggen threw his fist in the air. But the celebration was short lived.

"And Jenkins has the quaffle..."

Matthew turned his attention to the sky where Ceelee and Creevey seemed to be in the middle of some strange ballet, circling around each other, yet always at a distance. It was almost peaceful compared to the scene below.

Gryffindor quickly racked up three more goals while Slytherin only managed one, being kept at bay by Regina Prince and the two beaters, who appeared intent to make the Gryffindor half of the pitch as inhospitable as possible. Still, Slytherin was debuting an impressive set of plays against the Gryffindor chasers. Declan was no longer shouting but staring with his mouth hanging open in horror as Jenkins and his team executed one play after another. Still, it seemed for every goal they managed to score Gryffindor answered with three. Dorsett had just gotten the quaffle when suddenly Brady's attention turned to the sky above.

"And Carrow is diving! Has she seen the snitch?"

Ceelee was doing a straight dive for the ground, cutting off Dorsett completely with Creevey after her. Matthew followed her line of sight. Was he just missing something? He couldn't see even the faintest golden glint of the snitch.

"It's the Wronski Feint," Tip whispered.

"No wait, she's pulling up!" Declan said. "Maybe she got scared?"

"No... she wouldn't be scared of that, what is she-"

Matthew didn't even have the chance to finish the sentence before Creevey pulled out of the dive, pausing for just long enough that Owen Sulkowski was able to catch Creevey in the side of the head with a bludger, making a terrible dull thud. McLaggen zoomed over to steady the Seeker who tottered for a moment on his broomstick, as though he might fall off.

"Oh, that was low!" Brady shouted. "That was the most vile, disgusting, repugnant-"

Prof. McGonagall cleared her throat again.

"But unfortunately still allowed by the rules," Brady finished. "Figures a Carrow would be in on something like that."

"Mr. Brady!" Prof. McGonagall's scolding could be heard.

"Sorry, Professor. Anyhow, Creevey seems to be alright."

McLaggen gave Creevey a quick pat on the back and the two broke apart with Dennis flying back up into the atmosphere. Jenkins had taken the opportunity to score two more goals while the Gryffindor team was distracted. Gryffindor managed to get the quaffle and score those two goals back in short order. Matthew scanned the pitch for Ceelee. She was way over on the Slytherin side, circling just beneath the goals as though searching for something. Perhaps she had seen the snitch, afterall.

"And that's another goal for Gryffindor. Jenkins with the quaffle, off to Flint. Better look out Flint, Boots Luna has you in her sight."

Boots Luna sent a bludger screaming from her bat into Flint's side, causing him to lose his grip on the quaffle.

It happened so fast Matthew scarcely had time to register it before she hit the ground. Nott had flown straight at Boots Luna's broom, not even slowing for a moment as he grabbed the front end and jerked it upward, still flying forward so that it flipped over in some sort of terrible arc. Boots Luna, who had just hit the bludger, had neither of her hands on the handle at that moment. She seemed to fall in slow motion, but it was, in reality, less than a second. Not even long enough for Madam Hooch to flick her wand. There was a ghastly crack as Boots Luna hit the pitch.

"TIME OUT!" Creevey screamed, zooming down to where Boots Luna lay motionless.

Declan cursed so loudly a few first years turned to him in terror, though it was nothing compared to the incomprehensible tirade Polly had launched into.

"Boots! Boots!" Creevey cried as Madam Pomfrey hurried from the sidelines. Before Madam Pomfrey could even reach her Boots Luna shifted, stiffly.

"Ugh." she groaned.

"Boots! Are you okay?" Creevey asked, trying to help her up. She slapped away his hand.

"I'm fine. Fine!" she said, repelling Madam Pomfrey. "I just had the wind knocked out of me."

She walked over to her broom very stiffly and mounted it.

"Are you certain you want to keep playing? Cass can handle it without you," Creevey said, Cass nodded in agreement.

"An eye for an eye, a life for a life. Vengeance is the way of my people. And I will have my vengeance." A fire burned in her eyes as she mounted her broom, bat in hand.

"NOTT! Out of the Game!" Madam Hooch shouted.

"And Nott is out of the game to be replaced by Morraine O'Leery."

"Alright, Gryffindor gets a shot on goal," Madam Hooch called out. McLaggen easily put the shot away. The score was now 120 to fifty with Gryffindor well in the lead.

"Hey, Declan?" Matthew asked.

"Yeah?' Declan said, not taking his eyes off the game.

"Doesn't Boots Luna bat right handed?"

Declan pulled his binoculars to his eyes, "Merlin's Beard! You're right!"

Boots Luna was holding the bat in her left hand, her right tucked against her side.

"She's got a broken arm," Declan said, stunned.

But that did not appear to be slowing her down in the slightest. She was hitting bludgers as though one possessed. She slammed a bludger at Darius Flint's face. It hit him squarely, smashing his nose almost flat. Blood gushed from the wound, forcing another time out. She was relentless, knocking out both O'Leery and one of the Sulkowski brothers. She got Jenkins in the spine, causing him to lose the quaffle for a goal by Dorsett. With Slytherin down two she called a time out.

"Are you alright?" Creevey asked, dismounting next to where she floated just above the ground.

"I'm fine," she said, dismounting. Her legs immediately gave way. Creevey sprung forward to catch her. "Just two broken legs and a broken arm is all." She attempted to smile but it was more of a wince.

"Oh, is that all?" Creevey said. "Well, you should be up and running before the end of the match then."

Madam Pomfrey rushed over to help Boots Luna onto the floating litter and escorted her off of the pitch.

"That was probably the bravest, maddest thing I have ever seen in a Quidditch match," Sean Brady said, sniffling. "You had better catch that snitch, Creevey!"

This time Prof. McGonagall made no objections.

The match began again with a quick goal from Gryffindor bringing the total up to 190 to fifty with McLaggen holding the quaffle when suddenly Brady broke in, "And Creevey's seen the snitch, he's diving for it..."

Creevey was indeed after the snitch which was flitting just ahead of him. He dove and turned and dove again, he reached his hand out, fingers outstretched to grab it when, from just in front of him, a hand reached out and snatched the snitch from his grasp. It was Ceelee! She had come up straight from below him to swipe it right from his fingers.

"And Slytherin wins the match 200 to 190!" Brady shouted, though without any cheer. "Bloody hell!" he cursed, throwing his wand down.

The Slytherin's were ecstatic, carrying Reginald Jenkins and Ceelee on their shoulders back toward the school. Creevey just stood there, opening and closing his hand.

Matthew and the others waited for Brady to come down before heading to lunch.

"That was a heartbreaker, wasn't it?" Brady asked as came down the nearly empty stands. "Only lost by ten points."

"I'll say," Declan agreed as they started back to the Great Hall for a late lunch. "At least we'll know what to expect now."

"That was the dirtiest playing I ever did see," Adrian said. "And I once saw Massachusetts play."

"It was dirty, alright," Declan said. "But it was all within the rules, except for that bit with Boots Luna."

"I thought she was dead." Polly interjected.

"Yeah, I don't think Nott's going to be playing ever again," Brady said. "You should have seen McGonagall's face. I'm surprised she didn't eject him from the match herself."

"Poor Dennis," Shoshanna murmured. And for once, Tip nodded in agreement without making fun of her.

"So that's why they chose Reginald Jenkins. Now that I think of it, I remember he was a hatstall," Donald said, thoughtfully. "Between Slytherin and Ravenclaw. It makes sense now."

"He probably wanted to get rid of Nott, that's why he had him do that trick," Debbie spoke up. "Nott's dumb as a pile of rocks, but he's the child of a Death Eater so they can't just kick him off the team. And he'd be too stupid to realize he'd get caught if he did something like that. What do you think Matt?"

Matthew, who had been lost in thought, going over the goals from both Gryffindor and Slytherin, was only half aware of what Debbie had been saying. He managed a weak smile at her, "I think you'll be a great Auror one day."

She beamed at him. "Thanks Matt. But I'll bet that's why Jenkins did it, to kill two birds with one stone."

"Well, right now, I don't care why he did it," Adrian said. "I just want some lunch." He rubbed his round stomach and they all laughed. "What are you laughing at? You wouldn't want me to waste away to normal, would you?" he said in mock offense.

As they approached the Great Hall they heard a clamor from inside.

"Everyone must already be eating," Declan said, pushing open the door.

Loud shouting greeted them the moment they opened the door. Ceelee and McLaggen were facing each other, wands drawn. McLaggen's face was bright red as the two shouted at each other surrounded by a crowd egging them on, many with their own wands drawn, looking like they might explode into battle at any moment. Professor Flitwick was pleading for order but it was clearly out of his hands. The first spell cast would unleash a powder keg of rage.

"-could've killed her!" McLaggen shouted, a large vein throbbing dangerously on his forehead just below his wiry blond hair.

"I had nothing to do with that!"

"No, you just lured Creevey into a trap!"

"I saw the snitch!"

"And why would I believe the word of a Carrow? You're just daddy's little girl aren't you! Who cares if a few Muggle-borns get hurt or killed? They aren't pure bloods anyway! Kill them by the thousands! You're just like your father!"

Ceelee held her wand to McLaggen's throat. "You take that back!" she said, menacingly.

"Or what? You'll hex me? Use the Cruciatus Curse on me?" McLaggen threw his arms open wide, exposing his chest. "Come on, Carrow! Let's see what you've got! I can take it!"

Matthew leapt in between the pair of them, his arms outstretched. "Stop it you two!" he shouted.

Everyone stared, stunned.

"Get out of the way, Squib, this doesn't concern you," McLaggen growled.

"Yeah, Squib, move it. Before you get hurt." Ceelee glowered at him.

"No. I'm not going to let you hurt each other." He lowered his voice so that only the pair of them could hear him, he turned to McLaggen, "You say you want to be a better man, then stop this. Walk away." McLaggen's arms dropped to his side. "And you," he turned to Ceelee, "do you want to prove him right? That you are just like your father?"

Ceelee lowered her wand. "I am nothing like my father," she whispered, and turned to walk away.

Seeing the fight had ended the students began to separate.

"Hey Carrow!" a voice shouted from near the entryway. Ceelee and Matthew turned toward the sound of the voice just in time to see Ben Dorsett pointing his wand directly at her.

" _Confringo_!" A blue light shot from the tip of Dorsett's wand.

Matthew didn't have time to think about what he was doing. It was almost as though some outward force directed his movements. Pulling his wand he spun to block the spell as one blocking the blow from a sword. The blue light struck the wand. Matthew felt the force of it. The Blasting Curse that had killed twelve muggles and led to the arrest of Sirius Black. Still he held on. He felt the wood of his wand expand, splinter, and then... nothing. The blue light was gone. The wand had absorbed it. It had absorbed the curse. The shock of what had happened only lasted an instant.

"She's mine!" McLaggen shouted, tackling Dorsett. Dorsett struggled to get free but between McLaggen, Declan, Adrian, and Prof. Flitwick he was subdued.

"That was for my sister!" he shouted as they dragged him out. "That was for you, Beatrice!"

Matthew felt a slight pressure on the crook of his elbow. He looked down to see a narrow set of fingers, pressed into his arm, Ceelee's thin face at his shoulder. "Thank you, Matt," she whispered. Then she turned and walked away as though she had said nothing at all.


	10. Chapter 10: Scamander

**Chapter 10: Scamander**

After the incident with Ben Dorsett, the students were confined to their houses. Nobody objected. Everyone shuffle about, not talking or doing anything. It were as though something had died when the curse had been cast, an innocence. A Gryffindor had, unprovoked, attempted to murder a Slytherin. An announcement was made that supper would be held in the individual houses that evening. The Headmistress felt it was best that each head of house address the events of the day with their own students.

Professor Sprout gathered the Hufflepuffs about her in front of the fireplace, above which, a very sad looking Helga Hufflepuff still held out her cup, though it seemed less in a toast than in an offering of friendship. Prof. Sprout's usually jovial demeanor matched Helga Hufflepuff's in somberness. The students sat on cushions on the floor, tailor-style, in front of her.

"I regret to inform you that Benedict Dorsett has been expelled from Hogwarts for attempting to use the Blasting Curse on another student."

The words were not wholly unexpected but still a number of students gasped as she said it.

Debbie was the first to speak, "Will he go to Azkaban?"

"The Minister of Magic has not decided yet. Mr. Dorsett is not yet seventeen and so still is not subject to the full effect of the law, but then, what he attempted to do was unforgivable in the wizarding community. It cannot be overlooked simply because of his age or the extenuating circumstances. This is a very serious case. There will be a trial in front of the Wizengamot."

"Will we have to testify?" another student asked.

"No, Professor Flitwick will testify as witness. More will not be required."

"What extenuating circumstances?" Debbie asked, ever the detective.

"I am not at liberty to discuss those," Prof. Sprout answered.

The question that had been burning inside Matthew since lunch burst forth, "Who was Beatrice?"

"I'm sorry?"

"He yelled 'This is for you Beatrice!' when they were dragging him off."

"I apologize, I am not at liberty to discuss that either. I can only tell you we are doing our best to address the problem."

"You want to address the problem? Expel Carrow." Jonas Smith's loud voice carried over the crowd.

"Yeah!" A few other students echoed.

Prof. Sprout's brows knit, her eyes darkened. "No. Mr. Smith, I am disappointed in you. Miss Carrow has done nothing wrong."

"Yeah, tell that to McCraig."

This was the second time Matthew had heard McCraig mentioned in regards to Ceelee, he listened carefully but Prof. Sprout did not address the accusation.

"My Hufflepuffs, these are difficult times for Hogwarts. The houses have never been more divided, even more so than before the war. Everyone has suffered loss in these wars, no wizarding family was left unscathed. We must set the example in friendship. Not just friendship with each other, but with all the houses," she gave Smith a pointed look, "even Slytherin. Always be looking for ways to be a friend, even to those you might not like - you never know when a simple kind gesture can make all the difference in the world."

* * *

"I don't know what we're going to do now," McLaggen said, moving his knight as they played chess in an empty classroom the following evening. "I mean, Jerry will come on, of course, but he's barely even practiced with us this year and he's not half as good as Ben was. We've already lost to Slytherin."

"It wasn't by much. You can make it up," Matthew said.

"Yeah, but we really needed a cushion for when we went against Ravenclaw. Last year Creevey managed to catch the snitch and we still lost the match against them. And I doubt you're going to let us have that cushion." McLaggen smiled, wryly.

"Not as far as I can help it."

"I can't believe he did that. I mean, it's not as though I haven't wanted to take a shot at her, I can understand the feeling - just seeing her walking around the halls of Hogwarts, lording it up like her father did makes my blood boil - but I'd never actually try to kill her. But then, as bad as they did me, it doesn't even compare to what they did to him."

"What did they do?" Matthew asked, taking McLaggen's pawn.

They didn't tell you?"

"No." Matthew shook his head.

"Figures. They probably figured they didn't need to give everyone a reason to hate Carrow more" McLaggen moved his knight. "You know how he yelled about Beatrice while we were dragging him off?"

"Yeah." Matthew nodded.

"Apparently, Beatrice was Ben's twin sister. One of the fifth years remembered her. She only attended Hogwarts for one year and then she never returned. But so many students never returned he just forgot about her. She was always quiet, kept to herself, only really talked to brother. Prof. Jones told us that summer some Death Eaters broke into their house and tortured her to death right in front of the entire family."

"Amycus and Alecto Carrow." With chilling clarity Matthew recalled the conversation he had heard on the bridge.

"Yeah. Ben's father was Scrimgeour's Secretary. They needed him to get to Scrimgeour, but they knew Scrimgeour was on the alert for signs of the Imperius Curse, so they had to find some other way to make him do it. His dad's serving twenty years in Azkaban for his part in the Ministry of Magic's fall." McLaggen ran his hands through his wiry hair. "He was my mate and I never knew! He never told me anything about it. Never even mentioned his sister or father. Though I never asked. Didn't want to talk about my own brother."

Matthew resisted the urge to ask about Cormac, instead shifting a to more important question. "Did Prof. Jones say anything about the third Death Eater who was with the Carrows? What his identity was?"

"The third Death Eater? No. It sounded like there were only two. Check."

Matthew took the offending Bishop. "Do you remember what the Death Eaters said on the bridge?"

"Not exactly, I didn't hear everything. It was like hearing someone speak while you're bobbing up in down in the water. I caught bits and pieces. I remember laughter. And screaming. And voices talking. But I don't know what was real and what... wasn't... I remember the bit about you trying to cast a Patronus."

"That was after the dementor was dead."

"I still can't believe they killed a dementor."

"I didn't even know it was even possible." Matthew blocked McLaggen's rook. "You aren't supposed to be able to kill a dementor."

"I suppose no one has ever tried that before, though." McLaggen hesitated over taking a pawn before taking Matthew's knight, instead. "I can't imagine how warped your mind would have be to even think of doing something like that."

The door burst open.

"Peeves!" a grizzled voice shouted. Argus Filch's craggy face appeared in the doorway. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the two boys. "Students..." he hissed, shuffling in. "Shouldn't you be in your Common Rooms this late?"

"We still have half an hour before curfew," McLaggen said, indignantly. "We're allowed to be in here. We haven't seen Peeves either, so you can shift off and find some other rulebreakers to harass."

Filch left muttering something about stringing them up by their thumbs, followed by the cat, Mrs. Norris rubbing against her master's ankles.

"Sneaking Squib." McLaggen spat as he turned back to the game. He looked up to find Matthew staring at him, wide eyed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I know," Matthew said, trying to hide the sting of the words from a person he was fast beginning to consider a friend. "It's not like I don't know why people say it. I know the history. I know the part some squibs played in the Muggle War against Wizards. I probably know it better than anyone who says it. Spies. Agents for the Muggles. Some sold out their own families. But that was over a thousand years ago. And they still mistrust us. Checkmate."

"Well, for what it's worth, I trust you. Though I don't know how you beat me in chess every single time."

"I suppose that is worth something." Matthew gathered the remaining pieces toward himself.

"We still have time for one more round, " McLaggen suggested, as though hoping for a sign his words had not cut too deeply.

Matthew forced a wry smile. "With the way you play. But we'd better not. Filch will be keeping an eye out for us."

"Good point," McLaggen conceded, helping to put away the board. "I really would prefer not to give him a chance to string me up by my thumbs."

Matthew slid the top of the box on.

"Well, goodnight," McLaggen said so awkwardly it felt as though there should be a formal handshake.

"Goodnight, McLaggen."

"I told you, call me Liam."

"Call me Matt."

McLaggen appeared struck dumb by this. Matthew picked up the box and began to walk away. He was already out the door when he heard McLaggen call out, "Ok, then!" Matthew turned to see McLaggen hanging out the door of the room, waving with a smile. "Goodnight, Matt."

He looked so unintentionally comical, Matthew almost laughed. "Goodnight, Liam."

McLaggen grinned. Mathew turned down the hall heading toward the kitchens.

Recalling McLaggen hanging out the door, Matthew smiled while he walked along. As he passed a large window he noticed something odd, though it took him a moment to realize what it was. The lake was shimmering strangely in the moonlight. And there he saw it, again. The strange creature, flying through the water, leaping and twirling. The full moon on the clear night illuminated the creature, giving its form better definition. It reminded him of a seal, though he had never seen a seal move quite like that. He watched, hypnotized until he felt a strange presence at his leg. Startled he peered down to see Mrs. Norris, the cat, weaving her way between his legs. From down the hall he heard a slow stumping. He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes past curfew! He was going to get detention for sure! Declan would kill him!

Filch stuck his head around the corner. Matthew stood stock still. Perhaps Filch wouldn't notice him in the shadows from the window frame, though he knew this to be a vain hope.

Filch appeared to scan the corridor, then shrugged. Matthew didn't know how it was possible, but Filch didn't seem to see him. "Come on, Mrs. Norris, let's see if we can find any students leaving the Library late," he said, turning and stumping off in the opposite direction.

Matthew breathed a sigh of relief and, as soon as he could no longer hear Filch's footsteps, he ran down the corridors toward the kitchens, making certain to carefully avoid going by way of the Library.

* * *

That Monday, after Lunch, Matthew, Tip, Debbie, and Midge Owens all walked together from the Great Hall toward Hagrid's cabin. As they walked across the grounds Andy Greengrass caught up to them, he was panting from jogging.

"You... you said... you got a Boy Who Lived card," he said, breathing heavily.

"Yeah," Matthew said, producing the card from his pocket. "What'll you trade me for it?"

"I've got a Bridget Wenlock and a Cliodne."

"Hmmm... I'll think about it."

"Come on! I'll throw in Armando Dippet."

"Okay, deal." Matthew handed him the Harry Potter card for the trio of cards.

"Hey, what's up with that Bulstrode girl?" Debbie interrupted, pointing to Gwen Bulstrode who was walking down the sloping grounds alone, a sullen look upon her face.

Andy glanced over at her. "Oh, Ceelee still hasn't let her back in group. I guess, instead of just apologizing for costing Slytherin points, Gwen tried to justify what she said. You can imagine how that went over. Ceelee's got this thing about personal accountability; you screw up, you own it and you pay for it. I've heard she's even less compromising than the Dark - I mean, You Know Who."

"She must be lonely," Debbie ventured.

Andy shrugged, "Probably."

Debbie glanced once more at the girl, straightened herself up, and pulled the straps of her bag tight against her shoulders before turning towards them with a nervous smile. "Hey, guys, I'll meet you down there. Ok?" She turned and jogged toward Gwen Bulstrode.

"Debbie! Wait!" Midge called after her, but Debbie had made up her mind.

Matthew watched as Debbie approached the girl. She said something, Gwen regarded her suspiciously for a moment, and then allowed a slight smile, and the pair of girls continued on their way down toward Hagrid's.

They reached the clearing behind the hut where Hagrid stood. Near the corner, a spare young man with a swarthy complexion holding a briefcase stood looking warily, not at the students, but at something that seemed to be behind Hagrid, a half-giant who could probably hide a midsized elephant behind his large frame. On seeing them approach Hagrid rubbed his rubbish bin sized hands together, a grin of anticipation upon his face.

"Ah! Now that we're all here, ah've got a special treat for yeh! Can anyone tell me what this is?" He stepped aside, his bearded face brimming with glee. It was not a midsize elephant he hid but a creature the size of a full grown rhinoceros, though with a large hump on its back and a stubby, rounded horn on the tip of its chubby snout that glowed faintly red. Matthew almost gasped at the sight of it, instinctively he took a step back. He had heard Hargrid had a penchant for bringing dangerous creatures to class as though they were as harmless as bunnies, but this was beyond dangerous, it was downright reckless. The creature yawned, letting out a small grawp sound.

Midge Owens squealed, "It's a baby Erumpent! Oh look how cute it is!" She moved forward to touch it, her hand out as though she were enchanted.

The swarthy young man quickly stepped forward to block her. "Yes, he is very cute, but he is still very dangerous if startled or scared. Erumpents may be large but they are very sensitive animals and may charge if they feel threatened," he said in a voice that quavered as though he were a bit nervous yet still held authority.

Hargid stepped beside the young man, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder causing the smaller man to wince slightly. "Might I introduce to you Mr. Rolf Scamander, Magizoologist"

"Scamander? Like Newt Scamander? The author of our textbook?" a Hufflepuff named Lewis Springly asked.

"He is my grandfather, yes," Rolf Scamander answered.

"I've known Rolf since he was no bigger'n a bowtruckle. He was tellin' me over the Summer tha' one of his Erumpents was abou' ta have a calf and I thought it migh' be a good chance for you lot ter see one up close."

"If he's a baby, where's his mother?" a nervous looking Slytherin asked, he glanced about warily.

Scamander held up the briefcase and gave it a gentle pat. "She was not eager to let me show him to you today, but fortunately she trusts me."

"How old is he?" Midge asked, her hand shooting up in the air even as she spoke.

"He's three months old, so he'll need to go back inside the case soon to nurse."

"Does he have a name?"

"Well, not officially, but I like to call him... Herbert."

"Hello, Herbert," she cooed. She looked up to Mr. Scamander, "May I touch him?"

"I suppose if you approach him very slowly. But if I tell you to back away, you must do as I say immediately, agreed?"

She nodded, causing her mouse brown sausage curl ringlets to bounce up and down around her round face.

"Good. Now walk slowly forward, hands out in front on you. That's it... slowly now... Let him sniff your hand."

Midge Owens did as she was told, barely suppressing a squeal of glee as the baby erumpent snuffled at her hand before nuzzling its horn against it. She looked to Mr. Scamander, her face positively radiant.

"I believe you can pet him now."

She moved down and patted his giant hump.

"As you can see, erumpents are very docile creatures most of the time. Due to habitat destruction erumpent numbers have steadily declined and they are now on the brink of extinction. It is my hope that over the next few months we will be able to help Herbert adjust to human contact so that we can transfer him to a preserve in Africa where they have a female erumpent. I'm sure you can appreciate how challenging it is to bring a species back from the edge of extinction..." Mr. Scamander continued but Matthew was no longer listening. Over by the corner of the hut he could have sworn he saw something move. He shook his head, it must have been a trick of the light. Suddenly, from behind the hut a giant red catherine wheel sparkler shot out, shooting red sparks as it rolled through the air. Herbert reared, knocking Midge Owens down. He charged forward into the class, the catherine wheel at his tail. Matthew ducked, knowing it would do nothing more than make him more aerodynamic, but not especially caring at the moment.

" _Protego_!" a voice cried over the crowd. Matthew glance up from underneath his hands to see Ceelee, her wand out from which a large shimmering barrier had been produced. It covered the whole of the class like a bubble. The erumpent ran headlong into the shield, bouncing off he changed course for the woods.

" _Partis Temporus_ ," Scamander said, opening up a gap in the bubble which he quickly slid through. He aimed his wand carefully near the baby. " _Expecto Patronum_!"

A gigantic silvery beast shot from Scamander's wand, charging through the catherine wheel, reducing it to ash.

"An erumpent patronus," Matthew whispered as the giant silver erumpent ran along side the baby, heading it off before it could reach the forest.

Seeing another of his kind had destroyed the horrible spinning red monster, Herbert calmed down and began merrily running beside the patronus.

"There's a good baby," Scamander said gently, more to himself than anyone else, "Just follow your friend." Scamander opened his case and the silver patronus led the baby inside. Immediately, he shut the case and clicked the locks into place. He knelt down beside Midge Owens, "You aren't hurt are you?"

"No, sir." she shook her head, ringlets whipping back and forth.

"Take my arm then." Scamander offered her his elbow which she wrapped her pink hands around and lifted her up from the ground.

"Will we be able to see Herbert again?"

"I think maybe next week. He's had a lot of excitement today and I don't want to overwhelm him." Scamander suddenly pointed his wand toward the sound of a snapping branch behind him. " _Petrificus Totalus_." A black haired boy in Slytherin robes fell from a low tree branch to the ground.

"Aloysius Selwyn," Hargrid said to the boy who could only move his pupils desperately as though their movement could somehow spur his body into running away. "Yeh'll be havin' detention with me the rest o' the week. An' 20 points from Slytherin."

"That was an impressive shield charm the girl did, she probably saved her classmates from serious injury. What is your name, miss?" Scamander said, turning to Ceelee.

Ceelee took a bracing breath, "Ceelee Carrow."

Scamander winced slightly at the name but managed to collect himself, "Well, Miss Carrow, that was quite a bit of magic you did. Thank you for your assistance. I'm certain the rest of the class thanks you as well. Perhaps 10 points to Slytherin is in order?" he looked to Hagrid who appeared about to speak when Ceelee interjected.

"I was only protecting my house, the Hufflepuffs were just mixed in."

It was a lie and Matthew could tell Scamander knew it was a lie as well, but the magizoologist seemed to intuit the situation.

Scamander pursed his lips, "Perhaps 5 points then. A spell well cast still deserves acknowledgement. Well then, no sense wasting any more time, can anyone tell me what this is?" he said, holding up a small nut brown creature that looked not unlike a fairy.

After a rather interesting lecture on Brownies, Hagrid dismissed the class. Matthew, Tip, and Deborah Johnson were walking up the hill

"That was so cool when Scamander produced that patronus. I didn't even know you could have an erumpent as you patronus!" Tip declared, his hands laced behind his head as he walked, looking up at the sky. "I wonder what my patronus is? I'll bet its something cool like a jaguar or maybe a tasmasian devil."

"Probably a bunny-eared bandicoot," Matthew said. He didn't particularly know what a bandicoot was except that it was small and the addition of rabbit ears to the name made it sound particularly non-threatening.

"A bilby!? Nah! What do you think yours is Debbie?"

"I don't know, maybe some type of bird?"

Matthew scratched behind his ear and realized immediately something was wrong. He was no longer wearing his glasses. He stopped, rifling through his bag.

"What is it Matt?" Deborah asked.

"It's my glasses, they must have fallen off when the erumpent charged us. I'll be right back."

"But you'll be late for class!"

"I know, but mum will never forgive me if I lose them."

"Let me try to get them. What was that summoning spell?" Deborah asked.

" _Accio_ ," Matthew answered.

Deborah flourished her wand toward Hargid's hut. " _Accio glasses_!" Nothing happened. " _Accio glasses_!" she tried again. Still nothing. Tip started laughing. "Well, let's see you do it then!" she retorted, fire flashing in her eyes.

"Fine, I'll show you how it's done," he said with a cocky smile. He waved his wand, " _Accio glasses_." To nobody's surprise but his own, nothing happened. Deborah doubled over, her twin hair puffs shaking with laughter.

Matthew turned toward the hut, "It's fine, Tip, we still have a year until they teach us summoning spells. Don't worry, I'll catch up. It's not far to get to the greenhouses."

Matthew scanned the ground outside the cabin for his glasses, running his hands just above the grass so he would not miss them or accidentally step on them. He felt the hard glass before he saw it. Picking them up he rubbed the lenses on his shirt and raised them to the sky to check for smudges. He slipped them on and was about to go when he heard voices coming from around the corner. He hid behind the corner of the hut as Hagrid and Scamander strolled into view.

"Ah reckon ah'll have him feed flobberworms for the week. He can't mess that up too bad, can 'e? The garden could do with a good de-gnoming, too."

"Seems a fair punishment. It was a lucky thing Miss Carrow was in attendance. I've never seen a student able to produce a shield charm so strong, it was quite extraordinary. She's not related to..."

"Yeh, she is. Daughter of Amycus Carrow." Hagrid spit as though the name were a bad taste in his mouth. "But she's alrigh'. Fang likes her, an' ah trust his judgement more than any name."

"She's very powerful."

"Aye, that she is. Some of the professors... well, they say she might be one of the mos' powerful witches of her age; which is sayin' somethin'."

"Why did she feel the need to lie like that?"

"She..." Hagrid appeared unsure where to start. "Well, she... Yeh see, when she firs' got here, well yeh know that was jus' a year after ev'rythin' an' most a the other students didn' take too kindly to her on account of her name. I remember at the sortin' she came up, just a slip of a girl, four stone soakin' wet and when they announced her name... there was just this audible gasp. The whole room went silent. But not like a normal silence, but like the silence before a bomb hits. Like the slightest noise and the whole place would go up. And then, when she was sorted into Slytherin, the whole place just exploded. Guess everyone took it as confirmation that she was bad as her parents. Lotta rumors goin' round abou' her bein' trained up in the dark arts an all that. Mind yeh, back then there was a lot of fightin' between Slytherin and the other houses. Lotta Death Eaters kids were still students and with You Know Who gone an' half their parents in Azkaban, on the run or dead, well there was a lot of bad blood. Couldn' hardly walk down a hall withou' getting caught in the middle of a duel. I guess she tried to ignore it, but yeh know how kids are. She was bullied a lot that first year. Not to speak ill of my house but the Gryffindors gave her the worst of it. I foun' her one day in the forest when I was out feedin' the thestrals, up in a tree hidin' from some fifth years."

Scamander smiled knowingly, "Another one of your strays, eh Hagrid? You've always had a soft spot for hard luck cases."

"It wasn't tha' long ago I found you the same way. Well, mebbe not up a tree exactly..."

"Hiding behind a large pumpkin more precisely. I don't suppose I could do that now. But I can sympathize with the girl; living in the shadow of a famous family member can be difficult."

"'Specially when that shadow is black as You Know Who's heart. Anyway, took her in, gave her a cake, tol' her she could come by whenever she liked. Used to have her by almos' every day - it was like havin' an assistant. But she was always real quiet-like. Well, unless yeh wanted ter talk abou' Quidditch - she's a fanatic for Ginny Weasley yeh know; when she foun' out we was friends she wanted ter hear ev'ry story. I got 'er an autographed poster for Chris'mas. It's not like Ginny don't come aroun' on occasion, but I guess she didn't think she could get one for herself; mebbe tha' if Ginny knew who she was, she wouldn' do it. Ginny's not that type, I don' think. I don' know, mebbe she wouldn't. The Carrows were pretty bad to all of 'em. Yeh know, Ceelee never talked abou' what them other kids was doin'; never raised her wand again' them neither. Guess she though' she deserved it or somethin'. But then there was that incident with that McCraig boy."

"The McCraig boy?"

"He was a 6th year. Beater for the Gryffindor team. Real beefy bloke, yeh know?" Hargid illustrated the phantom boy's shape as a large square with his hands. "He took a particular dislikin' to her. I guess one night he cornered her in a back corridor. Don' know the particulars bu' I know there was an explosion an' McCraig came outta it missin' an arm an a leg. Reckon he was lucky ter be alive. Guess they weren't rumors abou' her upbringin'. A lot of the parents called for her to be expelled, but McGonagall wouldn', said she had it on good authority McCraig had attacked her. After that Ceelee changed. Mebbe she figured after that no one would ever accept her now anyway so why bother, right? Or mebbe she was jus' tired of bein' pushed around. So she started fightin' back. I mean, she never hurt anyone, aside from McCraig an' ah don't think she did that on purpose, but she fought back until everyone was afraid to even look at her wrong. Wasn't long afore all the Death Eater kids made her their leader of sorts. Keeps 'em on a tight leash. I imagin' Selwyn will prolly get it worse from her than anythin' I could ever do. Ever since she took over, fights between the Slytherins and Gryffindors have stopped almost entirely, exceptin' her and McLaggen a'course, so I can' say it was a bad thing."

"But it came at a cost. Beyond an arm and a leg."

"Yeh could say that, yeah. She don' come aroun' here much no more. I never see her laughin' or smilin'; it's like all the life has been sucked outta her."

"She's afraid if she looks weak she'll lose control of them."

"It's no way for a kid ter live, yeh know? These kids, they didn' get the chance ter be kids. It's jus' wrong, it is. Well, let's say we check on them Calygreyhound cubs." Hagrid gestured to the rear of the cabin.

"Yes, my grandfather did ask about them."

"They've been growing like weeds. The mum's all healed up so they ken go back ter Oxford whenever yer ready. Though I will miss the little tykes." Hagrid said, as they disappeared behind the back.

Matthew just stood for a moment, watching them go, trying to process what he had just heard.


	11. Chapter 11: Heavy Rotation

**Chapter 11: Heavy Rotation**

"Ready for the match against Ravenclaw, Squib?" a languid-faced Ravenclaw girl taunted in a nasal tone. "We'll fly so many circles around you, you'll be too dizzy to hold onto the post."

Donald stood, about to answer back when Matthew stopped him.

"We?" Matthew said, slicing into a chicken cutlet. He glanced up for a moment, "Funny, I don't recall seeing you on the team. Unless there has been a change in the line-up."

The girl was momentarily taken aback. "Wha? Stupid squib! You know what I meant!" she fumed, stamping the stone floor with her foot.

"That you believe you are in some way a member of the team and thus entitled to a share in their success through virtue of being sorted into the same house?" This time Matthew didn't even bother to look up.

"Why you! You know what? Serves me right for speaking to an idiot squib anyway." She turned, sticking her nose in the air as she marched away toward the Ravenclaw table.

"Just ignore her," Donald said. "She's an ignorant pratt anyway."

"Don't worry, Donny. It takes more than that to get to me."

"Still, the match is only four days away, you've got to be nervous."

Three days, unless you counted the day of the match, which he didn't. Though he was not keen to let him know it, Donald was entirely correct: Matthew was nervous. He wasn't just nervous, he was downright petrified. It would be his first match, and it was against last year's champions. It would be bad enough were that the only thing, but everyone would be judging him. If they lost it would only justify to everyone that a squib had no place on the Quidditch pitch. Even if they won but he failed to perform well, they'd think that. And what if his hand slipped like it had in practice yesterday? Sure he had managed to keep the other in place and right himself, but that didn't mean he wouldn't lose his grip the next time. What if it rained and the rings were slick? Or if there was a sleet storm? Would he be able to even climb the poles then? What if he missed a ring and fell? Would Madam Hooch catch him in time? Or would he end up on the ground like Boots Luna? In his mind he could hear the jeers of the crowd over his broken body. He had never before been so afraid of falling. Still, he swallowed the truth and speared a green bean.

"Declan has had us practicing every free moment, I think we're as prepared as we'll ever be," he replied.

"Every free moment would be an understatement, he's bewitched quaffles to randomly hurl themselves at us in the corridors," Polly said, setting down next to them. "Knocked all of my books out of my hands along with a full bottle of ink on my way to potions."

It was true. Matthew could scarcely walk down the halls anymore without a quaffle hurtling toward him, often two. It was bad enough to have to come to practice late covered in stinksap from his detention with Prof. Sprout, who had him inducing the mimbulus mimbletonia's defense mechanism in order to collect the prized sap for Rolf Scamander to take his grandfather when he returned the Calygreyhounds to Oxford, but he was quite certain Declan had bewitched the second quaffle as added punishment for the detentions.

"I should have never taught him the spells for that."

"You taught him the spells?!"

"It was supposed to just be theoretical; I didn't think he'd actually use them. At least, not in this way."

"Have you ever met Declan? And what way did you think he'd use them?" Polly was incredulous.

"I don't know, he told me it was for a romantic date."

She leaned back in her seat, an expression of defeated sarcasm on her face. "Yeah, his wedding to the Quidditch cup. What are the spells? Maybe I can counter them," Polly suggested.

"Well, the first is a tracking spell. It was originally just supposed to be a basic identity-based spell, but that interacted badly with the flying charm so we had to use a tracking spell that employed a biological base-"

"A biological base?"

"Yeah, like a hair."

Polly punched her fist into her hand. "So that was why he was so keen to pick that piece of fuzz off of my shoulder. I'll murder him. So, what can we use to stop them?"

"Hmmm... I don't know... perhaps a freezing charm..."

"A freezing charm?"

"Yeah, like _immobulus_... I mean the theory is sound anyway."

"The theory is sound?" Polly sounded incredulous.

"Of course, that could cause the quaffle to explode given the strength of the tracking spell..." he pondered, staring at the piece of breaded chicken on his fork.

"Explode!?"

"And the pieces might still chase you."

"The pieces!?"

"Well, yeah, I mean it's not like I can test it. Perhaps if you tested it on a pillow first..."

"Wot? So I can have a deranged pillow and a million feathers chasing after me as well?!" her Scottish accent was becoming particularly pronounced.

Matthew raised his hands in surrender, "It was only a thought."

"Hey, Matty. Hey, Polly," Shoshanna said, taking the empty seat across from Donald. "Hey Donnie, do you want to help me with the puzzle tonight?"

"I thought you had homework in Runes that had you stumped."

"I did, but Matty showed me a more efficient way to interpret the ancient Suomi, so I finished it much earlier than I thought." She took the salt shaker and liberally salted her green beans. "So, anyway, do you want to?"

"Not tonight, I have a Knight's Club meeting."

"That again? I don't know why you're even part of that stupid club."

"I'll help," Matthew volunteered, glad to have anything to take his mind off of the coming game - he had already done a month's worth of homework in the past five days and read through his textbooks for a second time.

"You will?" Shoshanna and Donald spoke in unison. Donald was incredulous, but Shoshanna appeared delighted.

"Yeah. I'd like to have a go at it."

Donald took a bite of a chip, "Well, if you want to kill an evening accomplishing nothing, that's up to you."

Shoshanna stuck her nose up in the air, "Better than some boy's only "man" club."

"You know, Matt and I had better go."

"You only just got here. And Divination is only down the hall," Polly said, less out of surprise than as a taunt to make clear it was Shoshanna who was the cause of his leaving.

"I need to have a talk with Matt," Donald answered through gritted teeth. "About an assignment from Prof. Jones."

"You do realize Matt is a third year, right? He doesn't know everything. You can't keep treating him like a magical encyclopedia."

"I know that. But-" Donald suddenly turned to look at the ceiling, he squinted at something Matthew couldn't see. "Did Declan bewitch bludgers too?"

"Argh!" Polly cried, ducking.

Donald grabbed Matthew's wrist and they were halfway out the door before a meatball narrowly missed Donald's head, splattering on the door.

"Missed!" Donald shouted.

Polly scowled, sending the entire serving bowl of meatballs after him. Donald slammed the door and the two braced themselves against it. Matthew felt the patter of meatballs as they hit the wooden door.

"Wait for it," Donald instructed.

There was a loud clang from the serving bowl followed by a cry of "Miss MacHeath! Do try to control yourself!" from Prof. McGonagall.

They laughed as they ran down the corridors trying to put as much distance between themselves and what would no doubt be an irate Polly as possible. They finally stopped on the landing halfway up to Ravenclaw tower. Matthew panted as Donald held his knees, unable to speak. From the window a quaffle zoomed in, Matthew instinctively raised his arm to block it, still breathing heavily. It flew down the stairs, bouncing between stair and ceiling.

"You… you're getting better…" Donald panted.

"Not much choice in the matter. They keep coming at me until I block them. But thanks."

"How often do those things attack you?"

"Maybe every five minutes. Here comes the other one." A quaffle flew down from Ravenclaw. Matthew hit it into the air with his fist.

Donald stared, impressed, as a grin rose upon his face. "We've got this match in the bag."

"It's not that easy. I've got to get to the quaffle to block it."

"So? I've seen you at practice, you're so fast I can barely follow you."

"Yeah, but have you seen them? It's like watching a well-oiled machine. That rotation thing they do – by the time you know which one is going to attempt to score it's already too late. I've timed it. If they go for the lower hoop I can't make it in time. And if I start from the lower one I can't make the highest. I told Declan he should put in a different Keeper but he won't hear of it. Says I'm still the best he's got and he doesn't expect me to save them all."

"He must have a good plan."

"He says it'll all come down to whether Tip can get the snitch early."

Donald shuddered, "That doesn't exactly inspire confidence."

Matthew glanced at his watch, not especially wanting to speak his mind on Tip's rather… unusual training regimen. On the plus side, he had only fallen off of his broom three times this week, which was a marked improvement, at least, according to Madam Pomfrey. He still had about ten minutes before potions.

"So what assignment did Prof. Jones give you that you need help on?" Matthew asked.

"Oh, she didn't actually give me one; at least, not one that I can't handle – just something on counter-curses. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Why?"

"Well it's about Shosh…"

Matthew was not too eager to discuss Shoshanna with Donald behind her back. She had an almost uncanny ability to find out about it. And that, more often than not, involved a trip to Madam Pomfrey. "What about her?"

"She wants me to stop going to the Knight's Club. Says it's sexist and McLaggen's a pratt. Well, she didn't use those words exactly..."

"So? I mean, it's not like you have to do what she says."

"Well… it's complicated."

"Why is it complicated?"

"Well… because… you know, I don't want her to think I'm, you know…" His hand turned in the air as if searching for the words.

"A sexist pratt," Matthew supplied

"Yeah."

"Why do you care what she thinks of you? I mean she has loads of opinions. Don't get me wrong, she's nice and all, but it's not like you're not going to run afoul of one of them."

"Yeah, but you know… besides you, she's my best mate."

Matthew was a bit stunned, "I'm your best mate?"

Donald turned a bit red in the cheeks, "Yeah. I mean we always hang out and talk Quidditch and everything. And we always eat and do homework together. I mean, I like her and all but it's nice to have another guy around."

Matthew thought for a minute. He hadn't had a best mate since he was nine, not since Andy and Cliff. He'd had friends from gymnastics and school, sure, but no one he could really talk to. What do you tell a muggle when they ask about your family? When they wonder why they can't ever come over to your house? Or why your sister doesn't go to school? And wizarding friends? Well... you were supposed to forget about them. He had resigned himself to always keeping friends at an arm's length. But now... He smiled, "Yeah, I guess you're my best mate, too."

"So what do you think about her asking me to quit?"

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know. Maybe you could come with me. She might listen to you if you say it's ok. She respects your opinion. I mean, you and McLaggen are mates now, right? So he can't be that much of a pratt."

"I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess? You play him in chess almost every day of the week."

"Yeah, but not these past few days."

"Because of Quidditch practice. I mean you've either been on the pitch or in the library. Hardly any of us has seen you. I'm surprised you have time to work on that stupid puzzle."

"Ravenclaw reserved the pitch for the entire evening."

Donald stopped, "Well this is my turn." He placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder, "Just come with me to the next meeting. Please?"

"Fine."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll see you at supper. Good luck in potions." Donald waved as he walked away.

Matthew certainly could have used some luck in potions. His nerves were so on edge that he was unable to concentrate on the recipe resulting in an exploding brew that singed the tips of Prof. Slughorn's walrus mustache.

* * *

Matthew was glad to get to the white limestone room where the puzzle was kept. It was large and impeccably clean with only the midnight blue velvet bag which sat in the center.

"Oh good, you're already here," Shoshanna said, pushing her way in. "Let's get started." She dumped the contents of the bag on the floor, the cascade of pieces made it appear as though she had dumped a bag of sequins. She immediately began turning the pieces over. He had never seen a puzzle quite like it. He instantly understood why the puzzle had such a legendary reputation as impossible. The pieces were tiny, many no larger than a centimeter and colored with shining gold, blue sapphire, silver, ruby, and pearly white. There were no interlocking parts, only smooth edges of varying convexness or concavity.

"Now, I think I've found a pattern to the colors. The ruby is next to the gold which is next to the silver and then the silver is next to the blue which is next to the pearl." She illustrated this by taking six pieces, of each color she mentioned, and lining them up one next to another. "You see, there are some pieces that have slivers of other colors. And then there are these pearl pieces with jet black on them but I'm not sure whether they are runes or letters or shapes. I'm going to work on those today. Anyway," she checked her watch, "we have two hours before Filch comes around, it's not enough time to finish, but we might figure out something that will get us closer to solving it, so let's get started."

They worked at the puzzle in silence for over an hour. Even though it was clearly impossible, Matthew found the work pleasantly meditative. At first he simply tried to find pieces of the same colors that matched, but soon found it to be futile - only matching three pieces in forty-five minutes. He decided to work on a certain convex band, searching for pieces that continued the line of curvature while Shoshanna sorted through the pieces for only the pearl ones and piled them up. She then sorted them further into pieces with jet on them. Matthew was surprised how long the line continued, he was actually beginning to find pieces that fit together. Slowly he constructed a gently curving line that ran through all of the colors.

Shoshanna held three pieces close to her eyes. "Hey, Matty, what do you think this looks like?" she said, laying them down.

He glanced over, and squinted at the miniature shape. "It looks like an 'H'."

"Like the Hogwarts 'H', don't you think?"

He leaned in closer so that his nose was only inches from the pieces. "Yeah, I think so."

"Hey, maybe..." Shoshanna positively glowed with excitement. "Gryffindor," she said, sliding a ruby piece forward, "Hufflepuff," she slid forward a gold piece, her fingers trembling, "Slytherin," the silver piece, "and Ravenclaw." She slid forward the blue piece. "And then the pearl of the Hogwart's seal! Matty, it's the four houses! This could be something from the founders! Wait... what is that?" in her excitement she only just now noticed the sizable arc forming beside Matthew.

"Well, I was working on a line and it sort of became this. I think it might be the border."

"The puzzle is a circle?"

"Best I can figure it."

"Of course! Why didn't I see it before?"

"Yeah, and if you'll look you'll see the colors form right angles with it."

"Like a diamond tile pattern!"

The two set to work on the border, after another hour had passed the door opened and Donald stepped into the room.

"Hey, just wanted to see how- Mother of Mordred!" he gaped at the quarter of an arc which encompassed Matthew and Shoshanna. "Shosh! You've got to have fifty pieces together! I've never heard of anyone getting this far!"

"It was Matty who noticed that there was a common curve on some of the pieces. It's a circle! And look!" She motioned over to a mock-up they had made with some of the inner colored pieces of what they thought one of the tiles looked like. The pieces didn't actually fit together but they had been able to estimate the approximate size, shape, and pattern: the border of the tile was ruby, followed by gold, then silver, then blue sapphire, and in the center, the three pearl pieces that formed the partial 'H'. "The colors are meant to represent the houses - we never made the connection because green usually represents Slytherin, not silver. And see," she pointed to the small letter at the center, "they put an 'H' in the middle of the pearl section just like the Hogwart's seal."

Donald squinted at it, "So it is."

Shoshanna grabbed Donald's arm, "Donnie, I think this could be something from the founders. Something they wanted to keep hidden. Only they could have known about this room and hidden the bag here."

"But if it was the founders who hid it, why would it show itself now?"

"Maybe it had something to do with the castle being attacked. Maybe it's a weapon." Shoshanna's eye gleamed with excitement.

"Some weapon. It took us three years to figure out it was a circle."

"Well, they might have thought they would need to use it sooner. I mean this was the time when Salazar Slytherin built the Chamber of Secrets, that could be why they hid it. Maybe it's a secret weapon against the basilisk."

"Or maybe it's some kind of map," Donald suggested.

"If it is, it isn't obvious," Matthew said. Donald looked slightly crestfallen. Matthew hurriedly added, "That doesn't mean it's not, just that it would be hidden. We haven't figured out much of it so it's still entirely possible that they hid a map within the design or that it is enchanted to only show its true form when it's finished."

"Bloody hell, maybe I should've come and helped," Donald said.

"Now you'll know better for next time instead of wasting your time with a stupid boy's club," Shoshanna taunted.

"It wasn't a waste of time. We discussed ways of fending off werewolves."

"Did they bother mentioning how to throw a werewolf off of your trail so you don't have to fight them in the first place?" Her eyes flashed accusingly.

"It... didn't come up."

"No, why would it?" she spat.

"Listen, we're not talking about a bunch of innocent Remus Lupin's here, most werewolves fought for You Know Who. If they're going to go after a wizard, it's probably not by accident."

"Yes, but they are still people!"

"People who chose to follow You Know Who!"

"It's not like they had much choice!" Shoshanna was almost shouting now. "What were they supposed to do after the ministry declared they couldn't be employed? Quietly starve to death out in the woods?"

Donald was about to make a retort when Matthew raised his hand.

"Did you hear something out in the corridor?" he said.

The two immediately paused to listen.

"What did it sound like?" Shoshanna asked.

"Something like a cat, I think."

Donald checked his watch, "Bloody hell, Mrs. Norris! We'd better get out of here before she comes back with Filch."

They scurried out of the room quickly with Matthew in the rear, in no particular hurry. Afterall, wherever Mrs. Norris was, it was not the room they were now leaving. As they passed a window which overlooked the lake Matthew saw a large splash. He paused you see if it was the strange creature again.

"Come on, Matt!" Donald said, grabbing Matthew's wrist. "Now is not the time for sightseeing."

"Did you see that?"

"You mean the thestral? Yeah." Donald pulled Matthew away from the window. "What about it?"

"Oh. I thought I saw... something else... in the lake." He craned his neck for another look.

"They fish sometimes, that's all it is. Now come on, before we get caught after hours. Prof. Sprout would hang me out to dry: one of her Prefects getting detention!"

Matthew allowed himself to be dragged along to the kitchens where Shoshanna was already waiting at the open door.

"Come on, you guys, what took you so long?" she chided, waving them inside and shutting the door.

* * *

It was the morning of the match. Matthew did not need Tip jumping on his bed to wake him up this morning - he had been lying in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours. Sometime after midnight it had begun to snow. He didn't know when exactly, just that it had been snowing since three when he had woken up to use the washroom, and had not begun to let up until six. He had crept out of bed to check every twenty minutes or so. The last time he had looked the grounds were covered in a thick white blanket of snow, giving the familiar an alien air. At least his fall would be cushioned, he tried to tell himself in a final, futile effort to put his mind at ease enough to get some sleep; but this had not had the desired effect.

He glanced over at the clock. 6:30 am. They would have to be ready by 7:30 for their entry into the Dining Hall at eight. He sat up and stretched, glancing over at the other beds. Everyone was still sleeping. Tip was snoring softly in his bed, looking more like an eight year old than his thirteen years, his jerboa curled up just under his chin. He walked over to the window, now half buried in the snow, the occasional flurry still dancing down from a steel gray sky to join its brothers. Probably seven centimeters of snow, he guessed - the advantage of living with windows that were level with the ground. He shivered, turning his back to the outside world to the warm little burrow. An evil smile spread across his face as a thought came to his mind. He ran, leaping into the air, and onto the big soft bed on the other side of the room.

"Argh! Hey what's the big idea!" Tip's shouts were slightly muffled as he struggled to free himself from his blankets. The jerboa chattered crossly from atop the round knob of the bedpost.

"It's the big match today," Matthew said, grinning.

"Exactly why I need all the sleep I can get!"

Matthew gave a knowing glance toward the window, "It snowed last night."

Tip followed Matthew's line of sight to the window where a thick line of snow was piled up against the glass. He tore off the blankets and Matthew with them. "Why didn't you tell me sooner! What time is it? 6:30? Still plenty of time. Wait... what time does Declan want us ready for?"

"7:30."

Tip seemed to be doing calculations in his mind. "Maybe if I... No... that would take too long. Or I could... nah. I mean there would still be enough time to- but would it really be worth it? I mean, I should save that one until I can do it properly..." he plopped back down onto the bed. His jerboa climbed up onto his shoulder and raised its head for a scratch under its tiny chin. "It's okay, we'll get 'em next time." He looked at the window, dolefully. "But it is a glorious snow to be missing."

They changed into their Quidditch uniforms as the other boys slowly got up and got dressed in their robes, decking them out with scarves and hats. Gerry Dartford showed off a pair of black badger paw mittens with golden claws and a big golden 'H' knitted onto the back.

"Well, here we go," Matthew said as they opened the door into the common room.

A big bomb of gold and black confetti exploded over their heads. In the falling confetti Matthew could see almost the entire house gathered all chatting and helping each other to get ready. Debbie grinned at them, her white teeth radiant through her gold lipstick. She had outdone herself, her face had been lightly powdered in some type of shimmering gold dust with black eyeliner winged out from the sides of her eyes. She put down a case of make-up she had been using to paint Midge's eyes and ran over to them, her gold feather boa trailing behind.

"What is this?" Matthew asked, astonished.

" So what do you think?" She gestured as though modeling her two hair puffs which both had gold sequined circles in the center of them making them resemble ears. "They're badger ears. I call them my HufflePuffs."

"You look great! I can believe all of this."

"Yeah, Hufflepuff always enters together with the team to show that we are united as one house so we try to make a big show of it. Anyway, good luck today you two." She gave them each a hug and scampered back to helping Midge.

"There you are!" Declan wrapped his arm about Matthew's shoulder. "You boys ready for your first match?"

"Too right!" Tip exclaimed, punching a fist into the air.

"Ready as I'll ever be. I was thinking, actually, about the Ravenclaw's rotation move..."

Declan led Matthew away from the crowd, "Yeah, what about it?"

"Well, I've seen something like it before, I hadn't though of what it was until last night. A few years ago I went to the circus with my gymnastic's class and they had a sphere with a bunch of motorcyclists that drove around inside of it. It's not quite the same motion but it is similar. If we time it right, Linnea may be able to fly through them and snatch the quaffle. They won't use it if they know we can break it."

"Why not me or Polly?"

"I've thought about it a lot and you're both too large. It has to be her."

"And here I was hoping for a lucky hit with a bludger knocking one of them out. Hey Aspera!" He shouted, waving over the girl with the lank black ponytail and narrow face, who was not much taller than Tip. "Tell her what you were telling me."

Matthew explained the move to Linnea, whose tight lips pulled into a contemplative frown.

"So, do you think you can do it?" Declan asked.

She nodded her head, "Yeah, I think I can. I mean, if I can't.. well Snitches or Stiches, right?"

"Yeah, Snitches or Stitches." Declan said with a winning smile and Linnea went off to join her friends. "I really hate how that caught on," Declan whispered to Matthew.

* * *

"Good morning, Hogwarts! This is Andie Greathouse in for Sean Brady, who will be playing as beater for Hufflepuff today. Good luck, Sean," the fast talking albino girl in Gryffindor robes announced into the microphone. "First we have Ravenclaw! The defending champions two years running. Will they add a sixth win to their undefeated streak? In the position of Chaser we have Team Captain Taro Matsumoto!"

A roar rose from the Ravenclaw section. A number of students pointed their wands in the air causing a giant, glittering, bronze eagle to form and flap its wings twice before dissolving into dust. "Matsumoto is the most successful captain in recent Hogwarts history, personally scoring over one thousand points in his career. It is rumored they are scouting him for the Japanese leagues but it is this announcer's personal hope he decides to play for Britain."

Someone from the audience screamed, "We love you, Taro!"

"Now I hear Matsumoto's been working on some new plays so keep your eyes peeled because I can guarantee you're going to see something today you've never seen before on the pitch."

"Next we have Co-captain Bridget Kineely-McConville playing chaser. Don't count her out. She at least as clever as Matsumoto and twice as agile. If anyone remembers her double-barrel corkscrew goal from last year-" The crowd roared appreciatively. "And completing our line-up of Chasers we have Jill Munhall. You'll remember Jill for her prowess on and off the field, eight OWLS, seven NEWTS, twenty goals, forty three assists, and veteran of the Battle of Hogwarts, and already accepted into the Auror academy, Jill is hoping to end her last year with another Quidditch cup." The crowd screamed in support.

"Beaters Paul and Lee Simons. Both returning for their third year on the team. They may not be the Weasley twins, but they can be just as dangerous with a bludger."

"Next we have Keeper Justinian Hawkins. Hawkins was a reserve last year and has since moved up to fill Detweiler's position. And finally, Seeker Paul Haverford who has caught seven snitches in his career with the team."

Declan pulled back from where he stood, peering out the tent curtain. "Alright, this is it. We've got this, just do as we planned. Ready?"

"And now Hufflepuff! Hufflepuff finished third in last year's cup but Captain Declan O'Connor believes he has finally found the right combination in his rather unorthodox team to unseat Ravenclaw. Is he right? First up, in his second year as Captain, chaser Declan O'Connor! Declan walked out of the tent with his broom in hand, raising both arms to the crowd. Through the open tent flap, Matthew could see the Hufflepuffs going wild in the stands. "Next, from the Isle of Sky, we have Co-captain Polly MacHeath playing chaser. MacHeath has been bragging that she has a new move that will turn Matsumoto's world upside-down, let's see if she can. Our third chaser is a new acquisition: Linnea Aspera. Let's give her a hand!"

Shouts and applause roared from the stands.

"Next we have beaters Sean Brady, returning for his third year, and Adrian Conway who is debuting for his very first season. Keep an eye out for stray bludgers, Sean."

"Next we have Declan's most controversial acquisition, he may be in his third year, but it's his first at Hogwarts, the first squib not only at Hogwarts but to ever play for an official Quidditch team: Matthew Boot as Keeper!"

Whatever butterflies had been floating around his insides before it seemed they had multiplied by a thousand, filling his entire body.

"Get out there!" Tip hissed, shoving Matthew through the tent flap.

For a second the entire pitch disappeared and only the stands filled with people, cheering and booing, existed. Had there always been so many students at Hogwarts? It looked like so much less in the dining hall. He tried to smile and wave as he looked around. There was McLaggen hollering and punching the air wearing a black and gold scarf, standing with Wycliffe and Card who were still loyally donning their red and gold. His sister was perched on Cass Weasley's shoulders, both in full black and gold regalia, screaming their lungs out. The Hufflepuffs were going wild, Debbie and Midge were doing some type of Badger dance that was somehow both ridiculous and cool at the exact same moment. He found Ceelee in the crowd of Slytherins. She was seated at the very edge, near the top. Their eyes met. She looked down at her robes, took her hand and shifted them so that something gold flashed at him from her robes ever so briefly before blending back in with the black. She gave him a half smile. He took a deep breath and stepped forward to join Declan.

"And finally, you all know him whether you want to or not, in his first game as seeker, Tip Walker!"

Tip strode out waving. If he felt nervous, he certainly wasn't showing it as he drove his fist into the air.

"Alright teams, take your positions," Madam Hooch commanded.

Matthew climbed to the top of the highest ring and perched in its center.

"And there's the whistle." Andie announced. "O'Connor with the quaffle, passes to MacHeath. Ooo! Intercepted by Kineely-McConville. And she passes to Munhall, to Matsumoto, Matsumoto's going for it..."

Matthew had been watching the action so keenly it took him a moment to realize that Matsumoto was coming straight at him, eyes glued to the second lowest hoop. As much as he was tempted to Matthew did not move. The quaffle came screaming at him, he easily blocked it. The crowd cheered.

"Matsumoto with a no-look attempt at goal, blocked by Boot!"

Matsumoto lingered for a moment, gracing Matthew with half a smile before flying away. Declan had told Matthew that Matsumoto would try to test him early on, clearly, a blind goal shot was what passed for testing. Declan had warned that they would try to lull them into a false sense of security. He glanced into the slate gray sky where Tip and Paul were circling.

"Now watch out for the sun," Declan had warned, "If it comes out they'll use it for the sakura play."

Declan had the quaffle, managing to put the quaffle through the lowest hoop before Hawkins could get there. It was recovered by Munhill who passed it to Matsumoto. Matsumoto flew at a steady clip towards the goal, appearing as though he were about to go for the lowest hoop. Matthew's muscles tensed.

"Oushi shoshite onezumi!" Matsumoto shouted. He pitched the ball toward the lowest hoop. Matthew leapt from his perch to the lowest hoop. Even as he was falling he could see he had been had. From behind Matsumoto, Bridget popped up and snatched the quaffle, throwing it through the, now unguarded, center hoop.

The sea of blue in the stands roared.

"Goal by Kineely-McConville! Ten points to Ravenclaw. Tie game!"

It was clear the game had truly begun. The Ravenclaw chasers sailed through Declan and his group. Sean and Adrian sent bludgers sailing at the Ravenclaws but just as many nearly hit the Hufflpuff chasers as the Ravenclaws weaved in and out among them. What the Ravenclaw's didn't intercept, their Keeper was ready to block.

"Hana!" Matsumoto called as he flew in a tight formation with Bridget and Munhall. As they approached the goal, the two girls split off to either side. He would have to guess which Matsumoto might pass to, if he decided to pass at all. Just then he saw Sean with the bludger. He had hit it toward Munhill who was going for the lowest goal. Matsumoto's jaw tensed - he hadn't noticed Sean. Or if he had, it didn't matter. He was going to pass. That meant the quaffle would either be passed to Bridget or it would go to Jill and she would be blindsided by the bludger and it wouldn't matter. Matthew flew at the middle height goal post, catching it just in time to block the shot by Bridget, sending it flying into the lowest hoop of the Ravenclaw goal.

Declan shouted, as he passed Matthew who was shimmying up the center goal post. "Yeah! That's what I'm talking about!"

Matsumoto scowled at Matthew. Matthew glanced once more at the sky. Tip was no longer circling quite so high, just high enough to distract the Ravenclaw beaters. Matthew might have thought this a rookie mistake except that Tip was actively pulling faces at them.

"Walker!" Declan ordered. "In the sky!"

Tip rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled with them and flew back up into the sky.

"O'Connor has the quaffle, but he's flying into a wall of Ravenclaws. Passes to MacHeath. Oh! Beautiful interception by Kineely-McConville!" Andie Greathouse said.

And it had been. Bridget had come up beside Polly and launched herself over the Hufflepuff chaser, her body and broom barrel-rolling, not unlike a dolphin, as she went. She caught the quaffle while in mid-spin, while she was still only halfway right-side-up, completing the roll below Polly and shooting off toward Matthew, Matsumoto and Munhall at her side.

"Hageshii Mawaru!" Matsumoto shouted. The trio lined up and began to fly in a rotating circle, not unlike a ferris wheel except they were all facing him. Suddenly, Bridget dropped at a diagonal angle to the opposite side of the circle, then back again, just crossing paths with Matsumoto who had done the same thing from the opposite side as she was coming up so that he only just avoided hitting her. As he was coming up, Munhall dropped down from the top of the circle to the bottom, crossing just above Matsumoto and below Bridget who had come down again, deftly releasing the quaffle into Munhall's hands. They continued in that pattern, the quaffle being passed from one to the other so quickly it was impossible to know who even had the quaffle, let alone where they might throw it. They were so close he had to make a move.

Matthew chose to gamble based on the probability that Matsumoto would know that he could not reach the lower hoop in time. He launched himself to the lowest hoop, just in time for the quaffle to sail through the tallest hoop. They managed three more goals that way.

"And the score is Hufflepuff twenty, Ravenclaw fifty!" Andie announced. "What a nail biter this one is. Now Masumoto has the quaffle, Declan's after him. He passes it to Bridget and - What's this?! MacHeath just made a one handed upside-down interception! How did she do that?! She's still flying upside down! It's hard enough to fly upside-down two-handed and she's doing it one handed while holding the quaffle! Munhill's after her but she doesn't know what to do. MacHeath is within striking distance... Goal! Hufflepuff thirty, Ravenclaw fifty! Watch out Matsumoto, Hufflepuff is catching up. Oh and now Matsumoto has the quaffle, they are going into rotation. So far Boot hasn't been able to block a single goal from this play. I don't even know who has the quaffle anymore! It's one of them. And there's Aspera, it looks like she's hoping one of them will drop the quaffle, no wait..."

Matthew locked eyes with Linnea and gave a nod. He had been watching them these last three times for when the quaffle would be vulnerable. Linnea didn't even hesitate, she flattened herself against her broom and shot like a missile through the rotation, snatching the quaffle just as it left Matsumoto's hand for Bridget's.

"I don't believe it! Aspera has got the quaffle! She's going for the goal! And she does it! Hufflepuff forty, Ravenclaw fifty!"

Matthew noticed a slight glare in his glasses from the snow. He looked up to see the sun shining down brightly. Sakura.

The Ravenclaw chasers had the quaffle, but instead of staying on the pitch they were climbing higher and higher into the sunlight. Matthew tried to see what they were doing, but it was blinding. Even the announcer was at a loss. Suddenly, the three of them plummeted from the sky simultaneously, and before he even had a moment to see, Munhill had scored a goal. Less than a minute later, Matsumoto had scored another and Munhill a third, flying and passing so fast it was almost a blur.

"And Ravenclaw is back in it, but wait! What is this?"

Tip and Paul came streaming down from the sky. Whatever they were aiming for it appeared they were closing on one of the towers. Then Matthew saw it, the snitch, flitting only centimeters from the tower wall. The seekers were neck and neck when suddenly Paul slowed, pulling away so he could fly at the tower from a better angle, but Tip continued in his free fall dive.

"What is he doing? He won't be able to get out of that dive in time to avoid a crash!" Andie cried.

In another second he was at the tower wall. He jumped from his broom, still holding it in his hand as something of a guide, and running down the wall to where the snitch hovered. Just as he was about to grab it the snitch flitted out of sight. Tip adjusted the broom so that the handle was tilted out and jumped back on just in time to brush over the heads of those in the third row. He reached out a hand, slightly tousling a girl's hair.

"Wait a second! Did he? Yes! He's caught the snitch! Tip Walker has caught the snitch!"

Tip landed, holding the snitch in the air, victorious. Matthew slid down the pole and ran to join the rest of the team who were hoisting Tip on their shoulders. As the students ran from the stands onto the pitch, Tip took the snitch and kissed it. He shouted, "This is for you, Cass!" and pitched it into the crowd where it landed right in Cass Weasley's hands. To Matthew's surprise, she blushed, looking momentarily astonished at the golden flitting ball nestled in her hands. Wycliffe shot Tip an icy glare.

"Well, gotta give the kid points for confidence," Declan said, as they carried Tip off of the pitch toward the castle.


	12. Chapter 12: Harry Potter

**Chapter 12: Harry Potter**

"It was him! He was standing with Hagrid! I swear it was! Harry Potter!" a Ravenclaw girl chirped as they herded through the doors into the entryway.

"You were just seeing things," another student answered.

"No, I saw him too," a second Ravenclaw said.

"You're mad. What would Harry Potter be doing here?" a fourth student butted in.

"Maybe he wanted to catch the match?" the second Ravenclaw suggested.

"Between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff? Not likely."

"Yeah," a Gryffindor added. "If he was going to come to a match it would have been between Slytherin and Gryffindor."

"Good thing he missed that," a Gryffindor in a red and gold striped scarf added darkly.

Matthew, who had waited for Donald and Shoshanna and now lagged behind the crowd of students coming from the game, turned to them and asked hopefully, "Do you think it really was Harry Potter?

"Who knows?" Donald answered. "He's got that invisibility cloak, doesn't he? He could have been here loads of times and we wouldn't know it."

"It's not as though he would come to visit Hufflepuff, anyhow," Shoshanna added.

Matthew felt a bit deflated. Part of him had already begun imagining Harry Potter, the Boy who Lived, the famous seeker, the one who had vanquished You Know Who coming down to congratulate him. Perhaps telling him how Oliver Wood could not have done better and how amazing it was that a squib could hold his own in a Quidditch match. Maybe he'd even sign his Boy Who Lived card?

"Well, perhaps he'd want to congratulate Tip. I mean it was a good catch," Matthew suggested.

"It was brilliant! That's what it was!" Donald emphasized with a thrust of his arm. "I'd take waking up early every day if it meant he could keep doing that."

"Suicidal, more like it," Shoshanna said.

Donald ignored her. "Did you see the way he ran down that wall? Ran down it! Like he was running across the pitch. And then just jumped back on and grabbed the snitch right over that girl's head. And did you see the look on Cass's face when he threw her the snitch?"

"I saw the look on Wycliffe's face," Shoshanna said with a note of warning. "Like he was ready to kill him."

"I know! That was the best part!" Donald tapped out the rhythm on the barrel that opened to the Hufflepuff common room.

The door swung open revealing a massive party. Loud dance music from Stregasus played as students shouted back and forth about the match. Polly was dancing with Taig Darrow off to the side of the room while the fat friar bounced around just above. The house elves had outdone themselves with cakes and pastries, sandwiches and cheeses galore littering every surface and at the center a giant cake in the shape of Helga Hufflepuff's cup. The portrait of Helga Hufflepuff herself watched over the celebrations with a proud maternal smile.

Declan was still carrying Tip on his shoulders while Tip held a butterbeer aloft in one hand and a chocolate eclair in the other.

"Whooo! Matthew Boot!" Declan hollered raising both his arms up causing Tip's butterbeer to slosh on him as he caught sight of the keeper. "It's about time you got here!"

Students were patting him on the back, ushering him towards the cakes and beverages.

Declan clapped an arm around his shoulders, causing Tip's shoe to wedge in his side. With his wand Declan silenced the music causing Polly to shoot him a scowl. "Hey everyone!" he shouted waiting a minute for people to quiet down and give him their attention. "Let's hear it for Boot, the one who finally broke Heavy Rotation!"

The Hufflepuffs cheered, raising their cups and bottles to him in a semi-toast.

"Heavy Rotation?" Matthew whispered.

"Yeah, that's the name of that spinning move in English. He named it based on some song from some cartoon show he liked in Japan." Declan didn't bother to whisper, he was too elated. "And you broke it."

"Well, Linnea did all the work."

"Yeah, but without you we never would have come up with it. They scored fifteen goals on Smith with it last year. Fifteen! In twenty minutes! And they would have probably gotten more but they caught the snitch and that ended the game. You're a hero, mate!"

Matthew positively glowed with pride. Everyone was patting him on the back, getting him butterbeers, handing him pastries. For once, he truly felt like he belonged at Hogwarts. When suddenly he was flooded with a cold, wet sensation smelling strongly of pumpkin.

"Oops. Sorry!" Josiah Smith sneered, empty glass in hand, a small group of Hufflepuffs Matthew knew to be his friends beside him giggling. "Someone must have bumped into me. Should be easy enough for you to clean up. Oh wait, you're a squib."

Matthew saw red. Just when he had begun to finally feel accepted that rat, Smith, had to remind him that he was, in fact, never going to fit in. Normally, he expected this kind of thing, didn't let himself get too caught up in the idea that he could ever be one of them, but for just one shining, glorious moment it had been within his grasp, he had felt it golden and gleaming as a snitch. And then it was gone in the icy chill of pumpkin juice. And that was it. He was done taking it. If he was going to get himself expelled at least it was going to be for a good reason. It was time to show Josiah Smith exactly what a squib could do.

And certainly he would have if Donald hadn't tackled Smith first. The two rolled on the floor exchanging punches. So shocking was it to see, that Matt forgot all about his own anger.

Smith's friends were about to pull their wands in his defense but Shoshanna was too quick for them. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," she warned. "That's right! You get him Donnie!"

She wasn't alone either, it appeared Smith had a rather large number of people who were perfectly glad to see him finally get knocked down a few pegs in a very literal sense. It took a full minute for Head Boy Quincy Koenig and Adrian Conway to pull the two boys apart. Donnie was bleeding from the lip.

"You wanna go? You wanna go?" Smith, his eye already darkening, challenged from the relative safety of Quincy's grip.

"Yeah. Come on Smith!" Donnie struggled against Adrian's grip, clearly hoping he might get in another punch or two. "You mess with my mate, you mess with me."

"Donald! Josiah! What is the meaning of this?" a shrill, musty voice cried from behind the students who encircled the boys who still appeared eager to fight. The crowd parted to reveal Prof. Sprout, the head of Hufflepuff house. "Fighting in the Hufflepuff common room? It's almost unheard of. And Mr. Macmillan you're a prefect. Whatever would possess you to do such a thing?"

Donnie glanced back and forth from Prof. Sprout to Smith. "He threw pumpkin juice on Matt, made fun of him for being a squib," Donnie panted, running a sleeve across his mouth, leaving a smear of blood from the corner.

"I tripped and spilled it!" Smith said defensively.

"He threw it. I saw him!" Shoshanna accused. "Him, Desiree, and Simon." Matthew had thought that felt like more than one glass.

Prof. Sprout turned to Matthew and saw he was still dripping pumpkin juice onto the castle floor.

She waved her wand in a fluid 'S' motion. " _Scourgify_ ," she said. Instantly, Matt's robes were clean and dry. "Both of you will have a week of detention in the greenhouses. You will be collecting stinksap so wear something you don't mind getting dirty." Both boys, as well as a few of their roommates groaned audibly. "Desiree and Simon, you will have three days with them. And I want all five of you to write a report on our house founder, Helga Hufflepuff, no less than two feet of parchment. Now, Mr. Smith, Mr. Macmillan, to your rooms."

Smith skulked off to the door that led to the fifth year dormitory. Donnie gave Prof. Sprout a quizzical look. "Oh yes, that's right, you're both fifth years. I forgot." From the twinkle in her eye, Matt was fairly certain she had not forgotten at all. "Well then, just sit over there." She waved off toward a table. Donnie sat down with a victorious look on his face, Shoshanna following him, sitting down and dabbing at his lip with a handkerchief.

Just then, Debbie burst through the door to the common room. "Hey! Didya hear?" she announced, panting heavily as though she had been running. "Harry Potter was at the match!"

* * *

Rumors that Harry Potter was spotted at the match persisted and grew until by supper the very students who had been denying he was even there were now claiming they had shook hands with him.

Tip joined Matt, Donnie, and Shoshanna at the dinner table.

"Bonzer bruise, mate," he said, referring to ugly dark circle of purples and reds that had formed beneath half of Donnie's lower lip.

Donnie smiled slightly, "You should see the other guy."

"I would, but he hasn't come out of his room yet."

Shoshanna, Matt, and Tip all laughed at this.

Taking the salt, Matt chimed in, "Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy."

"Oh? What was that?" Shoshanna feigned shock. "Is our Matty getting a bit of an edge?"

"Just starting to feel a bit more at home," he smiled.

"Students, may I have your attention please." Prof. McGonagall stood at the podium before the school. "Silence please."

"What do you think she wants?" Tip said through a mouth half stuffed with chicken drumstick. "Congratulate us maybe?"

"Shhhh!" Shoshanna placed her finger in front of her lips.

"Now I know you have heard the rumors that Mr. Harry Potter was at the match and I am here to tell you, those rumors are absolutely-"

"True." A voice spoke from the back of the hall. There was an audible gasp from the crowd. There he stood his black, militaristic Auror uniform showing from the gap between his black robes, older than his picture, but still with the same untidy black hair, round glasses, green eyes, and just above them, not quite obscured by his mussed bangs was the lightening bolt scar. He strode to the front to the chorus of whispers from the crowd.

McGonagall smirked, it was clear from her expression this sudden appearance came as no surprise to her. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. You always did know how to make an entrance." A few students laughed. "Now, if you would please join us at the Professor's table we might be able to begin supper."

"Thank you, Profes- I mean to say, Headmistress," Harry Potter - THE Harry Potter! - said as he took the vacant seat between McGonagall and Rolf Scamander.

"Students, as you likely all know, this is one of our former students, Harry Potter. He is currently in service to the Ministry of Magic as an Auror. He came today as a special favor to me to give a lecture earlier today to those seventh year students who are intending to go into the profession of Magical Law Enforcement. "

Bridget Kineely-McConville high-fived Jill Munhall.

"He was scheduled to leave after the lecture but has decided to join us for supper first. Now than, Mr. Potter, I know they will not be able to eat with their jaws hanging open so, if you would like to say a few words, now would be as good a time as any."

"Thank you, Headmistress." Harry approached the podium, smiled nervously, and swung his arms a few times. For a moment Matt could honestly believe the famous Harry Potter really was only twenty years old. "So... That was quite a match today wasn't it?"

The students roared appreciatively.

"I've been hearing rumors that Ravenclaw had a team that could compete in the National Quidditch League and I must say you didn't disappoint."

The Ravenclaws were ecstatic, shouting and patting Taro on the back.

"But Hufflepuff! You guys... I've never seen a snitch caught like that."

Tip threw both his fists in the air and screamed, "Snitches or stitches!" in appreciation as those around him applauded.

Harry glanced over at McGonagall, whose expression seemed to read: just go with it.

He swallowed and began again, "You know, it wasn't too long ago I was sitting at these tables. Well, that table in particular." He pointed over to the Gryffindor table, eliciting cheers. "You know, everyone talks about Harry Potter like I was some big hero my entire school career, but you know, I wasn't anything particularly remarkable. I was a decent student, burned through a cauldron or two in potions." Suddenly he winced, as though recalling a painful memory. "It wasn't really about any special talents I had, that's not how I defeated Lord Voldemort, it was about the people I chose to surround myself with, my friends. Where would I have been without Ron Weasley? Probably lying dead on some giant chess board before I'd even finished my first year, or at the bottom of a lake in the Forest of Dean. I can't even remember all the times he saved my life. And then there was Hermione Granger. Everything they say about her being the brightest witch of her age - completely true. She's remarkable, she is. And some of you remember my fiance, Ginny Weasley, I doubt I need to tell you how her and Neville Longbottom's courage are what kept Dumbledore's Army, kept hope, alive during those dark days. But you know, there was one other who maybe didn't seem like the most likely person to help save the Wizarding world, in fact, when I met her I thought she was a bit of a nutter, but even when I was at my darkest and it seemed like nobody believed in me, there was Luna Lovegood. These friends, they were what made me special, they were what made me able to defeat Voldemort. As an Auror I've learned even more how important it is to value the strengths of others and not just try to rely on yourself all the time. I can't even tell you how many times I needed Ron and Hermione and Ginny to knock some sense into me. That was Voldemort's mistake, he saw people as something to use to gain what he wanted, but he never saw any value in them, never understood the value of friendship, of love. That's why it is important to find friends that make you a better person, not just minions who will follow you."

A few students shot pointed glares over to Ceelee, who appeared completely unperturbed, if not mildly amused.

"The thing is, it doesn't matter who your parents were, how much money you have, what your blood status is, or even what your house is. Being a Slytherin doesn't make you bad - some of the best Aurors I know were Slytherins - and being a Gryffindor doesn't make you good, I think Peter Pettigrew more than proved that. It's about who you are and who you choose to be. And that's really all there is to it." He said, returning to his seat to uproarious applause.

Prof. McGonagall returned to the podium, "Thank you for those inspiring words, Mr. Potter. Now then, let us all tuck in, as it were."

* * *

After supper had ended and Harry Potter had left the great hall; for no one excepting Ceelee and a few of the Slytherins was willing to leave before he did just in case they might miss something important that would be talk of the school for weeks to come (Matt would have wagered if he had dropped his spoon in his soup it would become the newest trend to do so). Even then the entire school followed him to the Headmistress's office where they were shooed from the door by a rather cross Headmistress herself. He was following just behind Donnie and Shoshanna as they turned from the office. They were having a heated debate about... something... he had lost track two corridors ago when he heard a whisper from around the corner, just beside the office.

"Hey! Hey Boot!"

Matt ducked into the seemingly empty corridor where Ceelee was crouched almost hidden in shadow. "Ceelee! What is it?" he whispered back.

"Come on." She waved for him to follow her. He hesitated a moment. "Do you want to see Harry Potter or not?" He nodded. "Then come on!"

She led him down the corridor a few meters before stopping. She stood, searching the stone wall with the tips of her fingers. "I know it's here somewhere... Oh. There it is." The wall made a scraping sound as a group of a dozen bricks opened like a secret door revealing a steep tunnel leading up. She immediately clamored up into the hole. Matt just stood, peering up into the hole. Ceelee turned, "Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation? Come on."

Matt followed her up the narrow tunnel feeling much like Alice following the white rabbit. The tunnel opened up into a dimly lit cavity roughly hewn into the stone that was easily big enough for the two of them to crouch down. The front of the cave appeared to be made of some sort of thick canvas. Matt's fingers reached out to touch it. Ceelee slapped his hand away. "Don't touch that." she warned in a whisper.

"Where are we?"

"Shhh! We're behind one of the portraits."

"Which one?"

"How should I know? Now pipe down! I want to hear this." She lay on her stomach peering through a bright line of light at the base of the painting. Matthew followed suit. He was surprised to find he could see the entirety of the Headmistress's office.

Prof. McGonagall was sitting behind her desk, sipping a cup of tea while Harry Potter leaned with his hip against the opposite side, his arms folded across his chest, tea cup balanced on the desk corner next to him. He was looking right at them! For a moment Matt wondered if he could see them. Then he realized Harry was just looking at the portrait.

McGonagall produced a square tin covered in a tartan pattern. "Biscuit, Mr. Potter?"

"No thanks, Professor."

"Are you sure? They're shortbread."

"Thanks, but no. I don't have much of an appetite at the moment."

She helped herself to one, taking a bite from one end before laying the remaining half on the saucer next to her teacup. "Now then, Mr. Potter, I suppose we should get down to business. I assume Liberta has filled you in?"

"About the dementor attack on Halloween? Yes."

"It could have been much worse. Thank you for sending the owl."

"I was surprised you didn't cancel the event."

"Liberta advised me to, in retrospect I should have listened. But it seemed much more likely they would turn further East and avoid Hogsmeade in favor of muggle settlements."

"They're starving, Professor. They'll go wherever they can find food."

"Yes. So we've discovered."

"We've had three incidents of kisses in the past week. It's getting out of hand. A third of the Auror office is trying to keep this under control. It was all I could do to get away to come down here, but the letter you sent said you had important information that you didn't want to risk having intercepted."

"I feared if it fell into the wrong hands it might cause panic."

"Which is the last thing we need with waves of dementors moving throughout the countryside. It makes me wish I hadn't taken the case. But it was the first time they offered me a lead position. I was told there was some unrest amongst the dementors in the North - easy enough, cast a few patronus charms and they fall back in line. But when we arrived we found they had already migrated fifty miles south."

"Have you discovered why they are on the move?"

"Hunger, maybe? We don't have anything definite."

"I might." Prof. McGonagall produced a glass flask containing a scrap of grey fabric suspended in midair.

Harry took the glass and stared at the fabric with great interest. "This is a piece of a dementor's cloak. But how did you get it?"

"It was among the remains found with the children who were attacked."

"Remains?"

"Yes, remains."

"But all our information tells us dementors can't be killed."

"Apparently, they can."

"You think the children...?"

"No, neither of them had the ability."

"Which ones were attacked?"

"Liam McLaggen and Matthew Boot."

"Like Cormac McLaggen?" Harry asked.

"Yes, his younger brother. He was badly affected by the attack."

"And Boot... Why do I know that name?"

"Terence Boot, his brother, was in your year, though he was in Ravenclaw house."

"No, the name Matthew Boot is familiar..." The realization came to him. "Oh yes, the Squib who was playing Keeper in the match. The one Hermione was interested in. Nine OWLS was it?"

"Yes, and I still had misgivings letting him in. But he did assist me with dispatching a Death Eater during the Battle of Hogwarts. I felt I owed him at least a chance."

"He was at the Battle of Hogwarts?"

"An Apparation error, apparently, according to his parents."

Harry frowned. "Sounds like they were lucky to be rescued."

"I'm not so certain luck had anything to do with it."

"What do you mean, Professor?"

"Just when the dementor attacked a trio of death eaters appeared. I would guess they herded the dementors to Hogsmeade in the hopes of getting one to separate itself from the crowd so that they could ambush it."

"So the students were bait?"

"Unexpected bait, but yes."

"You said 'herded'..."

"Based on this incident, Liberta and I believe the death eaters are hunting the dementors."

Harry's arms dropped in his surprise at this pronouncement. "Hunting dementors? But why?"

"Mr. Boot related that he witnessed one of the death eaters restrain the dementor with a snake patronus while another cut it open, exposing the trapped souls."

Harry looked vaguely ill at the narration. He should be glad he hadn't had to see that scabby, slimy grey skin split open and that strange black pouch of an organ spill out, Matt thought.

"So they do keep the trapped souls then? I thought that was only a theory."

"A theory that has proven true, Mr. Potter. There was no way that Boot could have known of Justinian Timmons having been subjected to the dementor's kiss. Those records are sealed in Azkaban's vaults. Anyhow, it seems the dementor did not possess what they were searching for as they used their patronuses to dispatch it."

Harry Potter thought for a moment. "If the death eaters are hunting dementors, that would explain the strange migration pattern we've been seeing. The dementors aren't moving on their own, they're being chased, and every time they go to feed they become targets. Do we know which death eaters-"

Prof. Liberta Jones appeared in the doorway.

"Ah, Liberta, punctual, as usual."

Harry smiled and gave Prof. Jones a hug. "It's good to see you Auror Jones."

Jones fixed him with a wry smile. "Likewise, Mr. Potter. You aren't letting yourself get soft just because you aren't my trainee anymore, are you."

"No, ma'am."

"Then tell me, the Nicholas Flamel case?" her tone was as though she were giving a pop quiz.

"Sectum Sempera. Snape's old curse. Only known to a handful of Voldemort's followers."

"And...?"

"The Cruciatus Curse."

"How do you know?"

"His hands, they were still in the tell-tale clawlike position."

"Whose signature is Sectum Sempera combined with the Cruciatus Curse?"

"He's dead."

"Assume he wasn't."

"Magnus Rosier."

Matt's wand shivered in his pocket at the pronouncement of the name. He pulled it out, examining it. It seemed to be shaking on its own in his hands, emitting a low humming sound.

"Shhh!" Ceelee shushed him.

"It's not me! It's the wand!" he insisted in a barely audible whisper, holding the wand in front of her. She stared at it in silence.

"Very good, Potter."

"Magnus Rosier?" McGonagall asked, though her tone was not one of query. "One of those suspected in the murder of... of that Scottish family of muggles."

Harry's expression of puzzlement mirrored Matt's, but Prof. Jones appeared to know exactly of whom the headmistress was speaking.

"The very same. One of Riddle's favorite enforcers. He always hated the Killing Curse, felt it got things over with too quickly."

"His brother failed my class that year... he told me I would regret it." She consumed the other half of her biscuit, drowning it with a large sip of tea.

"I'm sorry, professor, but did you know those people?" Harry asked.

"It's not important. It was the sheer brutality of the killings that really shook the Wizarding World. It wasn't just that they were killed, but that the killer appeared to be amusing himself with the act. It took him hours... What he did to them." McGonagall answered, attempting to conceal a shutter.

"So, then, if the killer is using Magnus Rosier's signature, what does that tell you, Potter?" Prof. Jones abruptly shifted the subject back.

"That it must have been someone very close to Rosier who is copying his signature. Perhaps his sister, or the Lestranges. We know they were close associates of his."

"Or...?"

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"What do you know about Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange?"

"Quite a lot. At least as much as any Auror."

"Were they ever ones to get their hands dirty?"

"Not if they could help it..."

"Come on, Potter, I trained you better than this. Of all people you should know what I'm getting on about. Remember that story you told me of the time you won a vial of Felix Felicis in class?"

Harry thought for a moment before his eyes flew open, "You can't mean...!"

"No, Liberta. I saw his body, myself, among the dead," McGonagall protested vehemently.

"But did you check it with Wiggenweld Potion?" Prof. Jones asked.

Matt saw the dawning realization on the Headmistress's face.

"No."

"Given the situation it's easy to understand why that might have been forgotten."

"I saw him buried. They must have spent a small fortune on the statue that marked his grave that proclaimed there was no greater honor to die for Lord Voldemort."

"It's just a theory. He's more likely stone dead in his grave. But there were whispers that a handful of Riddle's Death Eaters were not as loyal as they appeared and had made plans just in case of such an eventuality as his death. Among those were Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange and Evelyn Carrow, formerly Evelyn Rosier, Evan Rosier's twin sister. It would not have been difficult for his sister to administer the cure for Draught of Living Death, perhaps even at his funeral. Then it would have been no matter for him to simply leave the country under an alias. We had enough live death eaters to worry about, we weren't looking for dead ones."

Prof. McGonagall thin lips had retracted into little more than a line on her pale face, "But why go to so much trouble?"

"They were intending to re-form the death eaters under a new leader."

"Certainly not Magnus Rosier! He was never a particularly bright student - I can't imagine anyone would follow him."

"No. Nor the Lestrange brothers, they always preferred to be the power behind the throne," Prof. Jones said. "There was something unusual we found when we were able to gain back control of Azkaban. A prisoner was unaccounted for."

"What's so unusual about that?" Harry asked. "I imagine loads were unaccounted for."

"Yes, but this one could not have left on his own accord."

"What do you mean?"

"He had been the victim of the dementor's kiss."

"Who?" Harry demanded. From the fire in his eyes, Matt could tell he already knew the answer.

"Now, do keep in mind it is possible he died. His health was very frail at the time Azkaban was taken-"

"Who was it?" Harry demanded through gritted teeth.

"Bartemius Crouch jr."

Harry's fist slammed onto the desk, a reaction Prof. McGonagall didn't seem to find shocking in the least.

"Liberta, thank you for coming," McGonagall said. "If you don't mind, I should like to speak with Potter alone for a moment. Do have a good night."

"Of course, Minerva. Potter." She and Harry exchanged nods of farewell.

They waited until Prof. Jones had left and the sound of the gargoyle jumping in front of the office door could be heard below.

Harry was facing away from McGonagall, his breathing heavy, his expression black. "Is it possible?" he said in a barely contained tone.

"I'm sorry Mr. Potter but you know I-"

"IS IT POSSIBLE!" he shouted, so loud both Ceelee and Matt jolted back from the ledge. "With the Philosopher's Stone, is it possible?"

Prof. McGonagall stared down at the tartan colored tin on her desk. "Yes, if they could find the soul it would be possible to reunite the two using the Philosopher's Stone." She looked up at Harry once more, "But Dumbledore destroyed it. I helped him do it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean Flamel couldn't have created another one after Dumbledore's dea- after Dumbledore was no longer around to stop him! He didn't want to destroy it in the first place! They stole the body and then they stole the stone and now they're searching for the dementor who has his soul!" Harry shouted.

"But even if they do have it, and Barty Crouch jr. has somehow been brought back from death's door. They may be able to reunite his body with his soul, but his mind, his memories, would be gone. These things don't survive too long after the kiss is administered." McGonagall spoke calmly, as if trying to soothe Harry with the voice of reason.

"I wish I could take comfort in that. Evelyn Carrow. That's the mother of that Carrow girl. I heard a lot about her in lecture, that she was unusually adept with some advanced dark magic and had united the Slytherins behind her. Do you think it's possible she would be working for her mother?"

"No." McGonagall said definitively.

"I heard what she did to McCraig. Blew off his arm and leg and half the corridor with them. I was surprised you didn't expel her for that."

"I had it on good authority that the spell was cast in self-defense. It was Mr. McCraig who attacked Ms. Carrow (a first year for goodness sakes!). Heaven knows what he would have done to her if she hadn't."

"Who's authority was it? Why didn't they testify at the Ministry hearing?"

"Curiosity killed the cat, Mr. Potter."

He looked like he was about to insist she tell him when it seemed to dawn on him, "Mrs. Norris."

McGonagall raised her brows.

"I know you like to give every student a chance to prove themselves, but she's dangerous. You should think of your other students."

Prof. McGonagall stood, her visage severe, "She is one of the most powerful witches of our age. More powerful than I think even she knows. Of course, I know she's dangerous! Do you think I do not realize this? But, at least, here she might have the chance to channel that power into good. Do you think she would find such an opportunity at home with her mother and sister and that revolving door of death eaters they have?"

"I think she would find the opportunity to recruit other students to her parents' cause."

"Of all people, I would think you would be the first to wish to give her a fair chance."

"I did give her a chance and she blew off McCraig's arm and leg."

"In self-defense!" McGonagall protested.

"She still did it! She could have just knocked him out. She was a first year - she knew Petrificus Totalus. He had a good future as a beater and that's gone. His mother was an Auror on the Lestrange case - you don't think that might have had something to do with it? It's quite a coincidence, don't you think? I mean maybe she is Carrow's daughter but-"

The Headmistress stood, suddenly. "I do thank you for your visit, Mr. Potter, but I fear we have kept you far to long. If you intend to spend the night we can have a bed made for you, but otherwise I would suggest that it is time to depart. Goodnight, Mr. Potter."

"Goodnight, professor, " Harry said bitterly, turning on heel so fast it made his cloak spin up behind him.

Ceelee and Matt withdrew from the portrait. Matt held his wand, rolling it across his palm as though seeing it clearly for the first time. No wonder his parents were wary of it. The things it had done, the lives it had ended, the sadistic tortures it had inflicted for its previous owner... he gripped it in both hands, contemplating breaking it. It was only right. He could feel a faint pulse from the wood, as though it knew his thoughts - the sensation did not seem to be discouraging. Perhaps the wand, itself, felt such an end fitting as atonement for its sins. But still, he could not forget what it had done for him in the Great Hall, how it had saved him from Ben Dorsett's curse. He held it a moment longer, felling the smooth wood. How easy it would be to snap it. Like snapping a twig. He relaxed his grip. He couldn't do it. It might not be truly alive but whatever it was, he couldn't kill it; not when it had saved him. Not when it had chosen him.

"Hey, let me see that." Ceelee snatched the wand from his hand. He had almost forgotten she was there.

"Hey!" he objected, but she only held her finger to her lips and pointed once more at the canvas.

She examined it closely. "I know this wand. This was my uncle's wand. How did you get it?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You got it at the Battle of Hogwarts, didn't you?"

He snatched his wand back. "I said I don't want to talk about it." Matt started to slowly slide himself down the tunnel. He wanted to get away from her, away from the thing that he had done to win the wand. So Magnus Rosier had been killed. It was a long fall. He must have died on impact.

"Wait! Matt!"

He could hear her sliding down after him.

"He's not dead!"

Matt stopped so suddenly Ceelee crashed into his back. "What do you mean he's not dead?"

"Just what I said. My Uncle Magnus isn't dead. He was knocked out in the battle, some kid knocked him off of the staircases - I'm guessing that was you - but it only knocked him out. Prof. Jones was right. He and my mum had worked out a plan that if the battle went badly he would take the Draught of Living Death and then, she would administer the Wiggenweld potion when she kissed his body goodbye at the funeral."

"You're not just trying to make me feel better?"

"You've already met him twice. Good thing he didn't notice the wand. Even I couldn't have stopped him if he did."

"You're telling me he's one of the death eaters we met in the woods?"

"Yeah, he's the big one with the white hair. I'd know him anywhere. He used to be my favorite uncle, until I found out what he did."

"So you know who those death eaters are? You've known all this time? And you never told me or Liam?"

"I wouldn't tell McLaggen the time. Just because you want to be friends with him..."

"Well, what about me then?"

"Look, if you had known that it was Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange under those hoods what would you have done?"

Matt's eyes grew wide as saucers, even though it had been a month since he had seen them his hands began to shake. "Those were the Lestranges?"

"Now you see why I didn't tell you. You would have just panicked and then Rodolphus would have killed you and McLaggen. I mean the only reason he didn't anyway is that he thinks he's my Da'."

Matt stared at Ceelee as though he had never seen her before, but now, comparing her face feature for feature with those from the wanted posters. There were some similarities around the eyes and nose, but then, he'd never seen her mother or a good photo of her father.

"Is he?"

She picked at the rough floor of the tunnel. "How should I know? It's not like I was there at the time," she answered, irritably.

"Well, maybe some kind of test...?"

"Like I'd want to know! Isn't it bad enough being a Carrow? Without adding the possibility that I might be a Lestrange? Without him trying to play Da' to me whenever I'm home while my Da' is in prison. Like I'd want to be his kid. Like anyone would want to be! They disgust me - the whole lot of them! You know what I do with all the letter my Da' sends me from Azkaban?"

Matt shook his head, too overwhelmed by this information to answer.

"I burn them. I don't even bother to read them. They all say the same thing. How sorry he is. How he did it all for me and my sisters. How much he misses us. How much he loves us. If he loved us he wouldn't have done all that. He wouldn't have become a death eater. And all the while he's in prison, his old mate, Rodolphus, is playing house with my mum whenever he has the chance. Everyone knows it. I don't blame the others for hating me for being a Carrow. I hate being a Carrow. If I could have them all sent to Azkaban tomorrow I would, but my sis is the Secret Keeper."

Matt's head was swimming with all this new information. "You have to tell McGonagall."

"What? You honestly think I haven't?"

"Then why didn't she tell Harry Potter? Or Prof. Jones?"

"If she told Potter that it was the Lestranges behind the dementor attacks he'd go in there half-cocked and probably get himself killed. They've got the stone, remember? Do you know what that does to magical abilities? At the end of the day Potter's just an Auror. He's a good Auror, but he can still die. And with that stone... it wouldn't even be hard. Think about the army Rodolphus could raise as The Man Who Killed The Boy Who Lived. Right now he just thinks they're pulling the strings from a safe house. If he found out they were actually out and about, well there'd be no stopping Potter from walking right up to them and practically begging to be killed, and Prof. Jones there right alongside him. McGonagall wants me to gather more information first, before the Order goes in. She wants me to go home for Christmas but I've already told her I'm not doing that. Just the thought of being near that piece of scum trying to pretend we're all one happy family - I couldn't eat as much as I want to throw up."

Matt stared at Ceelee in awe. She really might be the coolest person in Hogwarts. "So you're a double-agent?" he asked, recalling the spy movies he used to love when he was with his muggle friends.

She shrugged. "I don't know what that is, but probably."

"It's someone who pretends to be a spy for one side when they are actually a spy for the other. Like Severus Snape."

"Oh yeah, then that."

"Did McGonagall make this tunnel for you?"

"Nah, I just found it one day in my first year. It's probably one of the ones that opened up after the Battle. I don't think they know about it yet. Listen, you can't tell anyone about this, alright? I didn't know they were going to talk about it so much or I wouldn't have invited you. I thought they were just going to mope about the fact Gryffindor is going to lose the cup again and then he'd talk about Ginny Weasley and the Holyhead Harpies. You would not believe how much they talk about Quidditch when he visits. They'll be up past midnight easy."

"Okay, I won't tell anyone," Matt said. Not that anyone would believe him, anyway.

She shoved her face next to his own so that they were practically nose to nose, her eyes boring into his own. He pulled his head back as far as he could.

"Promise me." she demanded.

"Okay, okay, I promise. What? Are you going to make me take an unbreakable vow?"

She backed off a bit, he could see a wry smile play upon her lips, "I can't. You're a squib. It doesn't work on squibs."

So she had considered it. Still, it didn't really bother him. Given everything he had seen and heard, everything she had told him...

"Why did you tell me all that anyway?" he asked.

"Dunno, guess it's cause your the closest thing I'm got to a friend here. And I can always do you like I did McCraig and there's not a darn thing you could do about it."

"I could die," he said dryly.

"That would make things more convenient for Slytherin's Quidditch chances."

After all of that, after all that had just been heard and said, they actually managed a laugh. Matt could scarcely believe it.

"We'd better go, it's pretty late," Matt said.

"Yeah. Let me go out first, in case Filch is passing by."

She struggled past Matt in the narrow tunnel causing him to bang his head and scrape his elbows. He could hear the bricks slide open.

"Well?" he asked.

"The coast is clear," she called back.

Matt struggled out through the hole. He stood, brushing the stone dust from his robes.

"Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Not if I see you first, Squib."

He shot her a dirty look.

Suddenly, from behind them came a noise. "Meow."

Both of them turned in horror to see a dust colored cat with large, lantern-like eyes, sitting, as if waiting to be noticed.

"It's Mrs. Norris! Run!" he cried.

Ceelee sped off in one direction while he chose the other. There was a tapestry halfway down the next corridor that covered the door to a stairwell that only existed on Sundays that led to a chapel. With any luck he could hide there. As he rounded the corner he was momentarily blinded by a bright light, causing him to stumble and fall backwards.

"Well hello, dearie." Filch's grimy face peered out from beside his lantern. "Out of bed after hours, I see. That'll be detention for you."


	13. Chapter 13: Tea With Filch

**Chapter 13: Tea With Filch**

"Detention? Again!" Declan slapped the dining table with the palm of his hand causing the breakfast sausage on his plate to jump onto the table. Polly, was next to him, looking a bit exasperated. "For someone with no magical powers you sure have a knack for getting into trouble. So how long is it this time?"

Matt hung his head. It was true, he felt almost like he had spent more time in detention than out of it. There was nothing he hated more than telling his captain that, once again, he wouldn't be at practice. "Just an evening. Filch caught me out after hours."

"Oh, after hours, eh?" Declan waggled his brows. "Perhaps our little keeper was out with a girl?"

"It was nothing like that!" Matt lied, although, in a certain sense, it had been exactly like that. "I was just in the library and I lost track of time."

"Oh, in the library, eh. What was her name?"

"Jane Austin." Matt said irritably.

"Jane Austin, huh? I've never met her. Probably not a Hufflepuff, then. Ravenclaw?"

Polly whacked Declan in the back of the head with a roll of parchment, "She's a famous muggle author you idjit!"

He rubbed the back of his head, "Well how would I know that? I've hardly ever seen a muggle book."

"You've hardly ever seen a book, you mean."

"Hey! I read!"

" _Quidditch Strategies_ doesn't count as reading."

"Of course it does, right Matt?"

Matt thought back on the book Declan had lent him that had taken him all of an evening to read and was almost half pictures. "Well, it does have words... and many of them are structured into sentences..."

"There. You see? Reading. So you've got detention with Filch, eh. He going to string you up by your thumbs?" Declan asked, hold his thumbs out for illustration.

"Or hang you out of the astronomy window by your toes?" Polly added gleefully.

"Maybe he'll get McGonagall to allow him to use the whip? It's a special case afterall." Declan continued.

"He just said something about coming to his office tomorrow evening. That he had a job for me," Matt said, a bit nervously.

"Oooo," Polly said, "It's the whip for sure."

Now Matt felt himself going a bit pale. "Quit it, guys. McGonagall would never allow that." Though, considering it was his third detention in almost as many months, perhaps she would make an exception for him. Filch was always muttering about how he longed to used thumbscrews and whips on the students like 'in the good old days.'

"Sure she wouldn't," Declan's tone was clearly meant to be unconvincing. "Well, if you need to take a few more days off from practice, we'll understand."

"We'll totally understand." Polly nodded in mock support.

"Wouldn't want to disturb the healing process."

* * *

"He wouldn't really use a whip? Would he?" Matt asked the question that had been percolating in his mind all day. Donnie as they were walking down the hall to Filch's office. Matt had asked Donnie to accompany him with the excuse that he wasn't sure of the way. Of course, he and every other student in Hogwarts knew exactly where the caretaker's office was and made certain to avoid that corridor at all costs. He just didn't think he had the courage to face that corridor alone, that he would probably turn and run all the way back to the common room. He was not the cowardly type, but this was Argus Filch, that humpbacked, shuffling, cruel visaged man, and for all the students loved to make fun of him, none were too keen to cross him. Surely, Donnie knew Matt was lying, but he went along with it as true mates do.

"Nah, that's all talk. I mean probably it is." He said, scratching the side of his head.

"Probably?!"

"Well, I mean, I've never had detention with Filch. Everyone I know who has just says it's really boring. Like excruciatingly boring. And he just sits about muttering all the horrible things he'd like to do to them. But as far as I know, he never does. Tip said he was so bored he wished Filch would have hung him from the Astronomy tower. Maybe he'll go easy on you because you're a... you know..."

"A squib like him."

"Yeah."

They approached the corridor wherein Filch lurked. Even though it was washed in the warm, golden evening sun, it still felt as though it were dark and foreboding, like the walk to the gallows. The wooden door with the small black iron cage over its window stood just the slightest bit cracked.

"Well, this is where I leave you. Good luck, mate." Donnie patted him on the shoulder, then turned on heel and walked away at a pace Matt guessed was as fast as he could go without breaking out into a run.

"Yeah, thanks mate," he said to the empty space where Donnie had been.

He took a deep breath to steel his resolve and knocked on the door. The sound of the rapping was so quiet "Mr. Filch?" he called in a hoarse voice, barely more than a whisper. He heard the heavy clank of something large and metal from inside and the trailing sound of heavy chains being dragged. He swallowed a lump that had suddenly made its home in his throat.

"Mr. Filch?" He carefully tugged the door open more.

The door flew open, revealing the pale eyes bulging from pouchy sacks of pasty flesh below which his cheeks hung from the bone, sunken in with blue and red veins crisscrossing like roads on a city map above jowls that quavered like gelatin in irritation at having been disturbed. Filch's fingers, with their bulging joints, gripped the door in a way that, to Matt, recalled the talons of a bird of prey. "Who is it?!" he demanded. Seeing no one at height with his eyes, he peered down at the terrified Matt. "Oh. It's you." He checked his watch - a cheap looking metal piece with a face of yellowing paper, a large crack split the glass cover almost in two, spidering off near the middle, and possesed an unusually large winding crown; it was held to Filch's knobby wrist by an ancient looking, well-worn leather strap - shook it, held it to his ear, and frowned. "Must've forgotten to wind it," he muttered.

Matt felt a whispery sensation about his ankles. Looking down he saw Mrs. Norris winding her way between his legs. She peered up at him and meowed.

Filch turned and shuffled back into the office. "Well, come on then," he said, without so much as glancing back, "I've got a special project for you."

As Matt walked in he was jolted to see a massive iron trap on the table with cruel, sharp teeth and long thick chains hanging off of it.

"You know what this is?" Filch asked.

"N-no," Matthew stuttered, trying hard to hide to hide the fear he was feeling as he imagined his body impaled in those jaws and hung from the ceiling by those thick chains.

"It's a werewolf trap. You can't tell on account of the filth, but the teeth are tipped in silver. That big oaf, Hagrid, hulked upon it in the Forbidden Forest the other day and Prof. Jones asked me to clean it up for some lecture. Don't see the point of that, really. Waste of a good trap. Should set it down by the kitchens, to catch food snatchers," he grumbled off to himself with a certain perverse glee twisting his lips as he spoke the last sentence. He sat down in a creaky wooden dining chair beside the table, picked up what seemed to be a toothbrush, ran it through a tin of some sort of gloppy, yellow, waxy substance, and began to scrub the teeth of the trap. Matt watched in wonder.

It was a few long minutes of watching before Matt got up the nerve to speak. Perhaps Filch had forgotten he was there and might be cross about the interruption, or perhaps this was all the special project was. If it was, he could very clearly see why Tip would have preferred to be hung upside-down from the Astronomy tower.

"Mr. Filch?"

"huh." Filch grunted.

"Mr. Filch, you said you had a project for me?"

"Over there." Filch pointed at a large cardboard box that sat upon a desk so cluttered it were as though a tornado had passed through, localized entirely upon that surface. "Files they salvaged from my office after the Battle. The Headmistress dropped it off yesterday. Sort through that box and put the files in order by date and then alphabetically by last name. Then put them in that filing cabinet over there." He jerked his head to indicate a large metal filing cabinet, then continued brushing.

Matt walked over to the box which was marked in giant lettering 'Filch's Office' and picked up the first file. It was dated September 10, 1972, with the name Fletcher, Orson written next to the date. The next was written in a different hand: April 16, 1966 Prewitt, Molly - three files later, a second, with the same date, but with the name Weasley, Arthur on it. He placed this one behind the Prewitt one. He put the stack down and grabbed another handful of files when a piece of paper slid out from between then and floated down to his feet. He picked it up. It was a black and white photograph of a man in military uniform with pointed cap; from the tattered edges of the paper it appeared quite old. He was a decent looking gentleman with light hair, a squared jaw and broad chin. He appeared young, how young Matt could not tell, not older than twenty. Despite the age something about him was strangely familiar. The man was standing stock still, smiling at the camera. It took a moment for Matt to realize the man wasn't standing still, it was the photograph that was still. He put the photograph aside and dug further into the box.

There was another picture, this time of a beautiful woman who was moving and posing. It was still in black and white but Matt wondered if the woman would have preferred it that way. She was wearing a black, formfitting dress with eight broad white stripes radiating from a white circle in the middle, as the stripes reached the sides of the dress they bent at ninety degree angles giving the impression of a spider. She had a fat, fluffy white stole wrapped around her shoulders and a black pillbox hat with black lace sitting upon her dark hair, bobbed to her ears. She was smiling, then making kissing and pouting faces for the camera, then winking, then blowing a kiss. A few folders down was another picture, of both the woman and the man, he now in a new tailored suit with tails. He took her in his arms and dipped her. She laughed joyously. He could almost hear her.

He had wholly forgotten his task now. He began digging through the files furiously for more photographs. He found a fourth near the bottom of the box. It was the same man as before, now in color, but he was older by at least twenty years. His face was more deeply lined, his hairline receding. Next to him stood a different woman, probably ten years younger than him, wearing a purple sweater over a tweedy purple skirt of the same shade, her face was a bit odd, not quite symmetrical, and framed by a mess of brown curls. Both were holding kittens, her a litter of five strange looking kittens, some were large and some small, some with flat faces and some without they were orange and black and white and tabby all wriggling in her arms while a pretty white cat and an orange kneezil watched from their place at her feet. The man held only one kitten in his arms. It was not wriggling but snoozing peacefully. At his feet a bony old tabby twisted about his legs, lovingly gazing at the man.

As Matt pulled the photograph closer he noticed something on the man's wrist, just below the sandy kitten's head. It was a metal watch with a crack down the middle of its face.

"She only gave birth to one that year. I thought she was too old, but she surprised me." Matt jumped at the voice from just behind his shoulder. He turned to see Filch looking wistfully at the picture. "I thought this was lost in the battle." He took the photograph from Matt who, in his shock, easily relinquished it. "That was what? almost twenty years ago. Named her after the woman who dragged me out of the fire when my plane was shot down over Dover. That's where I got this." He indicated his limp.

"You were in the war?" Matt said in disbelief. He had never thought of Filch as anything other than the cantankerous old caretaker of Hogwarts that he was, as though he had sprung fully formed from a puddle of mop water, not as a young man who had once lived and breathed the air outside of the castle.

"Yeah, first the one, then the other. I was sixteen when the Battle of Britain happened, too young to serve, but I lied about my age. Ma and pa didn't want me to get involved in Muggle wars as I was their only child, but I was a squib, it was my fight too. I had a friend forge an ID for me. It was a bad job, sure, but I looked older than I was and my eyes were good, thought they would probably be too desperate for pilots to care. My pa found me at the draft office. He took one look at my forged ID and said that he didn't want me to get involved, that it would break my ma's heart to hear, but that if I was bound and determined to get myself killed he would prefer that I not get carted off to jail in the attempt, so he conjured me up a proper ID and saw me off."

He pointed to the woman in purple holding the five kittens.

"That's Arabella Figg beside me. I don't suppose you'd know her, we were in the Order together at the start of the First Wizarding War."

"Wait, you mean the Order of the Phoenix? You were part of the Order?" Matt was completely at sixes and sevens.

"Yeah. When I got out of the Air Force... Well things happened. Voldemort... he killed someone... very dear to me... To me and Arabella." Filch's already watery eyes began to overflow. He sniffed loudly, running a sleeve under his nose. He turned quickly from the desk, hunched shoulders shaking. "I'm going to make some tea. Would you like a cup?"

Matt almost couldn't believe his ears. Was Filch actually offering him tea? He didn't even know how to answer even as he watched the man place two dingy old teacups on a stained tea towel that covered a makeshift counter where an old tea kettle sat on a glowing red hot plate of sorts. He bustled about, doling out spoonfuls of brown and tan powder from opaque jars that had once been transparent when they were newer. The old hunchback poured the water with quavering hands so a little of it splashed onto the towel. He placed one of the cups on the table and sat opposite, holding the other in both hands.

"Have a seat," Filch said. Matt hesitated. "Well, it's not poisoned if that's what your thinking. Hmmm poisoned tea... now there's an idea." Filch smirked.

"Yes sir," Matt said and sat down stiffly. He took the cup in hand, not wanting to be rude. It was old and stained with dark rings. A sweet smell, of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg filled his nose.

Filch held the cup to his lips, not drinking, but inhaling the steam. "Treasure of the East Indies she used to call it. I suppose you're wondering why I'm telling you all this."

Matt nodded. Of course he was wondering what had brought on this most awkward situation between him and a man he would, up until this point, preferred not to be in the same wing of the castle, let alone the same room. But at the same time, his curiosity was begging of him to ask those questions which were even know on the tip of his tongue. Argus Filch, the war hero. The smiling man who dipped a young woman forever in a photo. Now a bitter old man who threatened children and loved no one but his cat.

"Go on, drink up."

Matt took a sip. The tea was pleasantly spicy and warmed his insides.

"You're a smart lad. You'll've figured enough of it out. But I don't want you getting the wrong idea about her. I don't want you thinking she was anything less than she was."

"The woman in the photos you mean?"

Filch placed his teacup on the table, took out a flask and emptied some of the contents into it. "Her name was Aranea Figg. A more lovely and vivacious woman I have never known. We were in the same year in primary school. She would sit in front of me in class on account of our names. Skinny girl, not much to look at. She used to have long black hair braided on both sides and then joined in the middle to make a thick braid and I would stare at that braid and think how much it looked like a paintbrush and how much I wanted to dip it into my inkwell. Then on the last day of the school year when we were ten I finally did. She didn't even notice until one of her friends pointed out the long black line of ink across the back of her uniform. Didn't take a genius to figure out what happened. First time I'd ever been hit by a girl. Course we were thick as thieves after that, till her parents found out about me a week later, what I was... what I wasn't. Her father especially wasn't too keen to have his daughter hanging around squibs. Arabella was still too little for him to know about her, not that that made a difference." He let out a huff of air and sipped his tea.

"Well, she went off to Hogwarts so we'd only see each other in passing on holidays. Then five years later I went off to war. Came back four years after a decorated pilot. To the muggles I was a war hero. Nine Nazi planes shot out of the air." He mimed gunning imaginary planes down.

"My father was proud, stuck my picture in the window with pride, but to the rest of the wizards I had somehow shrunk even further in their lofty esteem," he spat the words out. "In town, kids would run up to me and ask me all kinds of questions and the kinds of things kids do, wanting to help carry my groceries, on account of my leg; but in my own neighborhood parents would hold their children a little closer, wouldn't even let them near the house where my picture hung in the window. Afraid I might influence them to think being a squib was anything but shameful. I think you know what I mean."

Matt knew exactly what he meant. It was the same reason his parents had told him he couldn't compete in the Gymnastics World Championships: there were laws - even over half a century later there were still laws - statutes that said a squib was not allowed to fly too close to the sun at the risk that by doing so they might somehow expose the wizarding world. You could play, participate, even become a local hero - but if the eyes of the world ever came upon you, then so would the eyes of the Wizengamot.

"Anyhow, my mates from my unit, they finally convinced me to go out to the Dance Hall. I wasn't too keen on account that I couldn't dance with my leg the way it was, but they said it didn't matter, I just needed to get out a bit and maybe meet a girl to cheer me up. So I went and I watched them dancing with all the pretty girls and then, it was like everything in that Dance Hall stopped, the music, the couples, everything just froze when she sauntered in. She never walked anywhere. She always strolled or sauntered was what she said - walking was far too dull. She looked like she had just walked off the movie screen, like some Hollywood starlet. And all the men immediately left their dates to beg a spot on her dance card. She wasn't havin' any of it though. Merely passed off her coat and hat to them as though they were the footmen. Imagine my surprise when she strolled right up to me and said, "Argus? Argus Filch? Well it's been ages!" She had the most beautiful smile when she said that, her lips were spread so wide with ruby red lipstick like she was really surprised and glad to see me."

Matt shifted uncomfortably to hear about an old man's love life, particularly this old man's. But Filch's eyes had glazed over, incapable of noticing what was in front of him, he was back at that dance hall sixty years ago.

"I says, "Pardon me, miss, but I'm not sure we've met." And she says, "Now don't be silly, Argus, I'd know you anywhere. It's me, Aranea Figg. From school." I asks, "What are you doing here?" and she tells me she couldn't stand those stuffy wizards and their pure-blood mania so when her father wasn't watching she liked to sneak out and go out on the town. And then she asks me to dance and I tell her I can't because of my leg, but she insists and so we muddle through and I can't believe my luck to have the most beautiful girl in the hall on my arm while all the other men are staring like they are fit to murder me. We talked until morning, just sitting out in front of the Dance Hall. Seemed that although her father was still as much about pure-blood as ever, when she found out her little sister was a squib she softened on the idea a lot. Turned out she was really sad when she had come back from Hogwarts only to find I had run off and joined the Royal Air Force. She had wanted to talk to me about Arabella, maybe see if I could help her along. I lived in the same neighborhood, but I had barely even seen Arabella, turned out, her father kept her basically a prisoner because he was so ashamed of her for not getting her letter - she was only eleven, it wasn't her fault."

Matt remembered how his mother had locked herself in her room the day the Hogwarts letters were supposed to have arrived. He had brought some crisps up sometime around lunch, thinking she was probably hungry - to his ten year old mind that had seemed the perfect cure for whatever was ailing her. It always seemed to work for him. But before he could knock, he heard her sobbing on the other side of the door and his father comforting her saying that it would be okay, that Matt could have a perfectly fine future, that lots of squibs went on to successful careers these days. But such talk did nothing to abate her weeping. He might have been diagnosed with an incurable disease for how she spoke of how would she be able to live without him when he left to join the muggle world. He had left the crisps at the door and spent the afternoon hanging upside-down on the playground parallel bars trying to forget.

"Well, she and I fell in love and not six months later I asked her to marry me. Her parents forbid it but mine could not have been happier. Her parents thought that by withholding their money and their blessing they could stop us. I didn't know how we were going to afford a wedding on my factory salary, it wasn't as though my parents had anything to contribute. I suggested we elope to Gretna Green but Aranea wanted us to have a proper wedding because we had nothing to be ashamed of. She was marrying the man she loved and she could not have been prouder for everyone to see. We talked about taking in Arabella and I was more than ready to make a family with her and her little sister. And then she went and bought me a tabby kitten as a Valentine's gift. That's her in the picture, Mrs. Norris's mother. Told me her name was Nelly. I said "That's a strange name for a cat." and she said, "Well what would you call it?" I said, "Dunno. Cat?" And so Nelly it was. Now Mrs. Norris is all I have left of the two of them." At this Filch's voice raised to a high pitch. His head fell to his arms and he began weeping in earnest, his rounded shoulders shaking violently.

"Mr. Filch. Mr. Filch." Matt attempted in hopes to shake the man out of his self-pity. "What happened to Aranea?"

Filch collected himself, blowing his nose with a tattered handkerchief, "She went to London to work at Borgin & Burkes to earn some extra money for the wedding. I thought she should work at Gringotts, they were more respectable, but she said Borgin & Burkes got more interesting artifacts and she was just mad for those. She used to write me all the time of the ancient magical artifacts that had come into the shop. It wasn't many months gone by when she wrote me that an old school friend of hers, Tom, had come to work there as well. He was in the same house as her but three years younger. She said he had been very popular in school and he was particularly interested in old artifacts related to the Hogwarts headmasters. She had told Tom about a locket she had sold to a woman a few months ago that she thought might have belonged to Salazar Slytherin and he had become very excited to hear about it. But she wasn't able to tell him who the woman was - that was supposed to be confidential on the request of the buyer. That was the last I ever heard from her. They found her dead a few days later, apparently the victim of a cursed necklace."

He blew his nose again. "We wasn't allowed into the funeral. Neither Arabella or me. We just had to stand outside the cemetery gates and watch. And that was where Dumbledore found us. He told us it wasn't an accident. That she had been killed by Tom Riddle, that Riddle was amassing his own personal army determined to bring back blood purity. He asked us if we would like to help stop him. We both said we would, but how could we, we were squibs? He said there were things squibs could do that no other wizard could. We became spies for the order, Arabella and I. We were quite useful. Dumbledore was right, Riddle thought so little of squibs he only bothered with protection spells to detect magic and repel muggles, didn't even think of squibs. I could still get around the Avery's estate blindfolded I think. Arabella worked as a servant for the Lestranges, she actually managed to convince her father to request the position for her and they took her in for a pretty sum after he enumerated the merits of having a servant who could go about the muggle world in ways a House Elf could not. We managed to avoid capture for almost twenty years. We became good friends, had a shared love of cats. Dumbledore sent me all across Europe to gather information. Sometimes it was on Riddle, sometimes he just wanted me to purchase a particular book or object that had fallen into muggle hands (he hated to steal things and couldn't leave his job as Transfiguration master long enough to go). I guess I got a bit cocky."

He took a swig of his tea, no longer steaming.

"One day, in 1969, I was caught snooping around the Lestrange mansion. Arabella had let me in the back door like always. They took me to Riddle. He didn't look like Riddle anymore though. His face was strange and distorted. They wanted to know what I was doing there. I told them I was a thief tried to offer them my services. A pathetic sneakin' squib they called me. They took turns torturing me for what felt like ages. It was sport for them. I thought I would go mad. You don't know what it's like. At first you can still think clearly, but as time goes on that all gets stripped away and your mind goes white and you look for just one thing you can hold onto, one thing to keep you from losing your senses entirely. Dumbledore was gone, Arabella was gone, even Aranea was stripped away like an old billboard and all I could see was that little kitten, her mother gone and buried, who was going to take care of her when I was gone? What would she think when her daddy didn't come home? That thought kept me going. I had to get back to her. Might seem silly now, a kitten."

Matt shook his head.

"But that kept me sane, kept me to my story. They grew tired of me after a while. A thieving squib wasn't worth killing and they couldn't risk being found out at such an early stage. So they covered me in spirits, tossed me out onto the street, and called the police about a drunken vagrant. Took a year for me to recover from what they had done to me physically. Mentally..." He tapped his head, " well, I'll never forget it. That kind of pain gets in you. Stays in you. Infects your nerves, you bones down to the marrow. I still feel it on cold, rainy nights. But I got what Dumbledore wanted, their plans to use the Squibs Rights Marches to incite Pure-Blood Rioting for the purpose of recruitment. He instructed the leaders of the marches not to fight back. But, you know, you can't control everyone. That was under Eugenia Jenkins's term as Minister. She was a commander in the Order and we squibs thought we might have a friend in her. In the end, though, she chose not to risk her political neck."

Matt had never heard of Eugenia Jenkins before, though he wondered if she might be related to Slytherin Captain Reginald Jenkins. It sounded as though they shared a similar ethic.

"Dumbledore became headmaster at Hogwarts and immediately retired the previous caretaker. From what I heard it wasn't on the best terms between either of them. My time with the Order was done. Riddle knew my face. His torture had broken my body beyond magical repair. I thought that was it for me. I couldn't even go back to the factory. But Dumbledore said he still had a use for me. He suspected Riddle was recruiting students. He needed a caretaker that answered only to him to keep an eye out for any behavior, any breaking of the rules, that might indicate a student was ripe for Voldemort's plucking, in hopes he might be able to intervene. Plus it would give me the chance to find any secret tunnels Riddle might use to get onto the grounds. That Dumbledore was always thinking five steps ahead, he knew the war was coming and he wanted Hogwarts, and the students, safe when it did." Filch stared into space wistfully for a moment. Mrs. Norris leapt onto his lap, "Hello, my pretty," he murmured to her, giving her neck a scratched. She purred happily and curled up onto his lap as he absently pet her.

"Course I had never been a caretaker before and the students weren't particularly interested in being disciplined, particularly when they found out I was a squib. Bad enough to try to discipline children when their broken bones and cuts can be healed in an instant, but it's all the worse when they can stop you by putting up a wall. The first month was just about the worst I'd ever had. Seemed they were intent to make the squib quit. And the Gryffindors were the worst of it, at least the Slytherins had the brains to think a caretaker without a lick of magic might be more useful than the alternative, but Gryffindors live for the moment without thinkin' the consequences. Couldn't set foot outside my office without somethin' exploding. But I wasn't ready to quit. I'd never quit anything just cause it was hard, wasn't about to start. You see that file for Arthur Weasley, that was my predecessor who caught him goin' on a romantic stroll. Know what he gave him?"

Matt shook his head.

"He whipped him!" Now, there was no way Dumbledore'd actually let me whip a student and I wasn't inclined to start either (though those Weasley twins tested my resolve) but there was no need for the students to know that. I had a sergeant in the Air Force who used to come up with all kinds of creative threats for us, so I just patterned myself after him. I suppose I buried myself in the role a bit; but I'll be damned if it didn't put a stop to most of the trouble. At least until that Potter boy and his friend Black. Two boys from rich, well connected, pure-blood families - I knew they'd go wrong before the end of their first supper. It was like tryin' to stop the wind. They were bullies - heartless, cruel, no regard for the rules. You kids think rules are just suggestions to be flouted when they're inconvenient, but those who flout the rules that's the first step, you know, the first step down the path. People who think they are above the law. I have no tolerance for rule breakers. If it weren't for that Lily Evans girl, I don't think Potter would have turned out half so well, I think Riddle would have loved to have him and Black. His kid weren't much better." Filch was drawling a bit and Matt was quite sure detention had long since ended, but he was curious now.

"Loved to break the rules, him and his friends. Not normal rule-breaking like those blasted twins, the dark, dangerous stuff. The stuff death eaters would do. Miracle they never killed anybody."

"But they did things for good!" Matt protested. Despite everything, Harry Potter and his friends were heroes to him. Their actions over their six years at Hogwarts had saved the Wizarding world.

"For good." Filch snorted. "Let me tell you, there isn't a single wizard who went bad who didn't think he was doing good. Grindelwald thought he was doing good. Hitler thought he was doing good! Every one of those nine pilots I shot out of the sky thought he was on the side of right. Sure, in the end Potter chose the better way, but any man can be deceived into thinking he's on the side of right just because he doesn't want to believe he's supporting something wrong, you mark me." Filch took another swig of tea. "You mark me."

Matt nodded. "So you worked as a spy for Dumbledore in the school?"

"Darn straight. Was of perticular importance that year with that Ministry official, Umbrage her name was. You know her?"

Matt did not.

"No, wouldn't suppose you would. Just imagine a giant toad in a pink sweater and you've got her. I've never had a job so easy as I did convincing her I was on her side. Dumbledore knew it was only a matter of time before she tried to have him sacked and none of us knew fer how long and someone had to watch over the students. She liked me so well she never gave a thought to what I was doing or when. That year I swear it was like Potter intentionally was trying to get kicked out. Everywhere I went he was causing some problem, he and his friends. And then the Weasley twins were trying to get themselves expelled so I was forever cleaning up their messes - nightmare that was. Bad enough during a regular year with the mess of those snackboxes of theirs puking pustules or whatever they called 'em - you ever tried to mop up a swamp? I might've liked 'em better if I didn't have to clean up after them all the time. But that swamp... I really might have whipped 'em for that. Happy to pack her bags and see her off I was. Had 'em packed for a week. Had to fight to keep from smilin', pretend to be distraught, just in case. Wasn't a year later that came to pass and Dumbledore was gone and the Carrows, well they didn't even think of sacking me. Time came, I got the students out, came back, and that was one more battle I fought in. It's where I got this." He pulled back his sleeve revealing a nasty scar. At that moment he noticed the time on his cracked watch, it was well beyond curfew. "Well you must be tired of the stories of an old man by now."

"Oh no, not at all" Matt objected, and it was true. He wanted to hear more, wanted to ask more questions, wanted to hear exactly how Filch had spied for Dumbledore, if he still worked for the Order, more stories about the years right before the Second Wizarding War.

"Well you'd best be off to bed. I suppose the one thing I wanted you to know is Dumbledore, well he would've been glad to have you here. Always believed squibs were important to the Wizarding world, else we wouldn't have 'em. Maybe that don't mean that much to ya, maybe it do."

"No, it does," Matt interrupted.

"Well, if you ever want to come by and have a cuppa, door's always open." His face shifted into a warning scowl, though with no menace behind it, "But don't go tryin' to be friendly-like in the corridors or thinkin' I'll go easy on ya. I gotta reputation to maintain and I don't want 'em thinking I'll give you special treatment just cause yer a squib like me. Cause if ya do, heaven help ya, I'll give you a month of detention with Hagrid. Now go. And don't let me catch you out after hours again. Tonight's a freebie."

* * *

As Matt left the room he glanced back at the lonely old man finishing his cup of tea, cat asleep on his lap, mumbling softly to an old photograph on the table. He resolved he would visit again, maybe before the holidays.

It was as he was passing the window that faced the lake that he saw the strange creature once again splashing and playing in the moonlit pool. "Well, tonight's a freebie," he said to hims. He tugged his robes together to brace against the cold wind and headed to the front entrance.


	14. Chapter 14: The Song of the Selkie

**Chapter 14: The Song of the Selkie**

Matt stepped out into the chill air of the night, careful to shut the door behind him. As the door closed he heard the heavy sound of the lock falling back into place and the familiar cackling of Peeves the poltergeist on the other side. A jolt of panic shot through him. He yanked on the door handle, but it would not budge. Now he was really in for it, out of bed and on the grounds at night. His mind immediately started going over possible ways back in. Perhaps, if he waited by the dorm window, Tip would see him - that was, if Tip decided to attempt an early morning escape, but he'd been doing that less now that it was only cold and miserable out without the benefit of snow. He could probably sneak in at breakfast when they reopened the doors, but that would mean staying out in this misty cold all night, and Hagrid would probably find him before then. And what about Hagrid? At the very least Matt could take shelter in his stable for the night. In the morning he could explain what had happened. For all his size and fearsome appearance, Hagrid was the soft-hearted type. Hagrid might even decide that a night in the stables was punishment enough and not report the incident to McGonagall. Perhaps Hagrid would say Matt was only out helping with the morning feeding. Certainly it was worth a try. Better to be found by Hagrid than anyone else. And all because he just had to see what that strange thing in the lake was.

The lake! There was an entrance to Hogwarts from the lake! All he would need to do was fetch one of the boats from the boathouse and paddle it through the cavern onto the dock and he would be in the clear. If he took one of the older ones no one would even notice, probably not until next year for how rarely they were used. By then he could probably come up with a way to get it back unnoticed.

The mist was rising on the water as he approached the boathouse, giving the lake an ethereal appearance. Whatever had been swimming in the lake had long since vanished, not that he had been watching for it since realizing he had been locked out. There was an eerie hum on the wind as he approached, almost like the snatches of a song. He could see the front of the building was chained, but perhaps it was open in the back? If nothing else he could probably tolerate a quick swim under a gate. As he stepped around the corner of the boathouse he saw something completely mad. He rubbed his eyes to be certain it was not simple a trick of the mist. No. It was the back of a nude woman lying on the beach, skin so pale as to appear almost white, dark brown hair cascading down her back and shoulders, staring at the lake. He could hear now the distinct sound of music on the air. In the undulating mist she appeared like a ghost, though Matt had never heard of any lake ghost except for Moaning Myrtle and he had never heard of her to go about starkers. He crept closer, trying his best to remain within the shadows of the old building. Closer now, he could see the woman more clearly. Except she was not a woman, at least not properly, for where he had expected to see legs he saw what was clearly a tail, not unlike the tail he had seen in depictions of mermaids excepting that it was a dark brown or black in color. But then, he knew from his studies that mermaids, in reality, looked nothing as they did in legend. They did have upper bodies that were similar in form to a humans, but they were far uglier to humans than myth would convey. Whatever this woman was, she was the most beautiful woman Matt had ever seen though he could not say why, and though he could not see her face, he could hear her voice over the gentle lapping of the water on the boathouse, singing in ancient tones.

"A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;  
A ghràidh, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;  
A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi -  
An tòir chrodh-laoigh a thàine mi."

Though he did not understand the words, there was something so beautifully haunting in them he felt his heart being rent within him, tears stung his eyes.

As he watched, being drawn toward her in an almost hypnotic state, the woman's tail seemed to slide lower, revealing her hips as she continued to sing plaintively,

"Trodaidh m' athair 's mo mhàthair riut,  
Trodaidh mo chinneadh 's mo chàirdean riut,  
Ach marbhaidh mo thriùir bhràithrean thu"

Suddenly his feet caught on something, something large and made of cloth. He fell, catching himself on the rocks near the shore, he sucked in air to fight the urge to cry out and frighten the woman. But it was of no use, she started, her song interrupted. He rolled behind some large rocks - the last thing he wanted was to be caught peeping on some random woman in the middle of the night. As he crawled further from the woman he felt sharp pain in his hands. Examining them he could see they were badly scraped from the fall. He peered over the rocks to see the woman, her ankles now appearing from within what had been her tail, she seemed to have decided whatever had interrupted her was of no concern for she resumed her song as she rose up from the shore, still facing the water,

"A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;  
A ghràidh, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi;  
A ghaoil, leig dhachaigh gum mhàthair mi -  
An tòir chrodh-laoigh a thàine mi."

The woman seemed to fight to tear herself from the lake, turning away from Matt, toward the place where he had tripped. He could see now the thing he had become entangled in were clothes as she dressed herself. This wasn't just some woman! This was another student! He had to know who she was! He had to see her face!

As she continued to dress, he crept along the shore line where her attention a pointedly away from. There, lying on the sand, was the tail. Except it wasn't only a tail, there was more to it than there had appeared to have been, and it wasn't scaly like a fish or a mermaid, but it looked to be furry, like an animal pelt. He took it in his hands to have a closer look.

The head of the girl snapped toward him the moment he touched the pelt. He recognized her in an instant - it was the Ravenclaw Co-Captain Bridget Kineely-McConville - her face pale and terror stricken. Knowing he was caught, Matt stood, holding out the pelt to her, searching for any excuse that would not make him seem like a peeping tom. She approached him slowly, as though he were a vicious animal that might tear her to pieces at any moment. She touched the pelt gingerly, taking it into her hands.

Matt released the pelt into her hands, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand in embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"You give this to me freely?" She interrupted. Her accent, like her song, was of a more queersome, ancient tone then he had ever known, and it was not as though he had never heard her speak before. But in that moment, he knew whatever she had sounded like before, this was her true voice.

He nodded, too stunned to speak.

She clasped the pelt to her chest and raced off toward the castle as the words, "What are you?" fell from Matt's lips.

* * *

Matt followed her path up toward the castle, his mind too full of all he had seen to even recall the locked door or note that it was now left ajar. The creature he had seen swimming, it had to be her. There had been something so familiar in the way the thing had swum and dove in the lake, it was the same as the way she flew - but if that were true then what was she? He made his way down to the Hufflepuff Common Room and was about to tap out the rhythm to gain entry when he heard voices coming from the kitchens.

"Well, you don't have to encourage him!" the one voice said as two tall shadows approached. Matt recognized it instantly as Byron Wycliffe. He ducked behind one of the barrels so as not to be seen; Wycliffe sounded as though he were in a foul mood and Matt had no desire to find himself the convenient target of Wycliffe's temper.

Wycliffe and Cass Weasley appeared from the shadowy corridor. Wycliffe's expression was stormy enough to sink Atlantis while Cass appeared quite content, her fingers on one hand ringed with donuts while in the other she carried a number of pastries. In her mouth, hanging out from either side like a puppy with a bone, was quite possibly the largest eclair Matt had ever seen.

"Mmm mmm mmm mmm mm," Cass responded.

"Don't talk to me with your mouth full!"

Cass rolled her eyes and stopped in her tracks, taking the eclair and practically inhaling it. Chocolate frosting and cream lined the sides of her mouth. Wycliffe offered her a handkerchief but she simply wiped her sleeve across her mouth. Matt suspected she was intentionally being uncouth just to further annoy Wycliffe.

"He's just a kid, Byron, so he's got a crush on me," she said.

"That doesn't mean you need to encourage him."

"Encourage him? And how did I do that?" she scoffed.

"I saw you when you caught that snitch."

They were talking about Tip!

"You saw what, exactly?" Cass's posture had changed, her fists were on her hips as though she were daring Wycliffe to say more; and even with donuts on her fingers and pastries in her other hand and despite Wycliffe being almost half a foot taller than her and athletically built, Matt was quite certain she could flatten him.

Wycliffe quailed "You... you know..."

"I know what, Byron? I am sick and tired of this! He's just some third year kid with a crush!"

Wycliffe approached Cass in what was probably meant to be a posture of reconciliation, trying to put his arm around her shoulder. She shook him off. "I'm sorry Cass, you know, I just don't want to lose you."

She rounded on him, "To him?! Because he threw a snitch at me?! I have half a mind to-! You know what? Forget it." She threw up her arms and stormed off.

"Cass, I'm sorry!" Wycliffe hurried after her. She threw two donut ringed fingers up in what was likely meant to be a rude gesture. "Cass, wait!"

Matt waited until their shadows had disappeared around the corner before coming out of hiding and quickly tapping out the rhythm on the cask. So Wycliffe was jealous of Tip. The idea of the older and better looking Wycliffe being jealous that Tip Walker would somehow steal Cass Weasley from him made Matt almost laugh aloud. It was a good thing Tip wasn't there to hear her. Matt pondered for a moment as he pulled on his pyjamas. Actually, it was a really good thing Tip hadn't been there to hear. For the average person her dismissal of him would have been enough to vanquish any hope, but when it came to Tip for whom confidence and hope sprang eternal from fathomless wells, he'd probably see it as a victory. Matt could see him now grinning. "She knows I exist!" he would say victoriously. Matt shook his head, suppressing a chuckle, and pulled the blankets over him.

That night his dreams were haunted by that song from the shore.

* * *

Matt sat absently buttering his roll at supper, staring off into the distance, pointedly trying not to look at Bridget Kineely-McConville who was sitting near the doors to the great hall, as far from him as was possible.

"Matt. Matt! Matt!" A grape from across the table returned Matt from his reverie. "There you are," Tip said, smiling.

"Where else would I be?" Matt answered.

"I don't know, but wherever it was, it looked like it was about a million miles away."

"He's right," Shoshanna said, "You've been off all day. What is it?"

"I was just wondering, what kind of woman would need a fur pelt to transform to swim underwater?"

"You mean like a scuba diver?" Tip asked.

"Something like that, but without the equipment."

"Why do you ask?" Shoshanna said.

"Just read it in an epic poem and was curious." There was no way Matt was going to tell any of them what he had seen the night before. He was quite certain Shoshanna would never forgive him for peeping on a naked girl, even if it had been an accident; and he didn't expect Donnie, the prefect, to be to keen to hear of his after hours adventures - even if he had gotten away with it. Donnie would probably take points away from Hufflepuff just on the principle of it.

Shoshanna considered the question carefully, "Well, maybe an animagus, but they wouldn't use a fur. Could be a cloak they enchanted to be waterproof or something? Maybe some sort of special magical artifact... But then, that seems rather excessive when gillyweed is freely available, I mean expensive and difficult to cultivate, but much easier than a full fur coat. Unless it was inherited."

"Or it could be a selkie," Donnie interupted, not even looking up from cutting his beef. Shoshanna and Matt gazed at him, stunned, it was not typical for Donnie to know the answer to anything before they did. He glanced up, "What? Prof. Jones had us write that paper on creatures that could take the form of humans at the beginning of the year, remember?"

"A selkie?" Tip was clearly confused.

"It's like a seal that can take the form of a person when on land," Matt supplied. "I can't believe I didn't think of it. When they transform they leave their fur skins behind and can be captured and forced to obey the orders of anyone who might capture their pelts. So that was why she was so scared."

"Who was?" Tip asked.

"Oh..." Matt fumbled, "the woman in the poem." A selkie! That had to be the answer. Until this moment he had not even been certain they existed, most of the educated writings on the subject postulated that the legends were merely based on animagi. But if she were a selkie, then why would she be attending Hogwarts? That made no sense. If selkies were part of the wizarding world then why was their existence doubted? Why had he never even heard of one before? Wouldn't they be in the same class as House elves, Goblins, and Centaurs - certainly magical in their own rights but considered separate magical creatures and therefore not eligible to be students at Hogwarts?

"I think you might be getting a bit too much into your books," Donnie said. "Maybe we ought to go down to the pitch and throw a few around before the Slytherins have their practice."

"I thought you didn't like Quidditch," Matt said.

"I don't, but I'm tired of being cooped up inside. I think it's the first day the weather hasn't been rubbish for a week."

"Sure, I guess."

"Tip, you in?"

"Does a wombat dig?"

Matt and Donnie exchanged questioning looks.

Tip sighed in exasperation. Rolling his eyes he said, "Yes!"

"What about you, Shosh?"

"What do you think?"

"I'd be better off asking a brick wall to tap dance?"

"That sounds about right," she smirked.

"So we'll head down to the pitch after suppe-"

"Hey!" Tip cried out, interrupting Donnie.

"What is it?" Matt asked.

"Something hit me on the back of the head!" He rubbed his hand over the back of his hair, his hand came back with a thick clump of butter on it. "Crikey!" He bent sideways in his seat to check the floor, sure enough he came up with half of a generously buttered roll. They turned to see, sitting almost in line with him at the Gryffindor table, Cass Weasley, making a conspicuous show of buttering half a roll. Wycliffe was sitting beside her, fuming. Tip's eyes were almost as large as his grin.

"This is my chance!" Tip leaned in whispering conspiratorially to the others. "Shosh, do you have any spare parchment?"

"Tip, no." Shoshanna said.

"Oh come on, I know you do."

"Wycliffe will kill you." She glanced over at the red-faced Gryffindor, "I think he might anyway."

"What's a little death when it comes to true love?"

"Ask Romeo and Juliet."

"Who?"

Shoshanna sighed heavily. "Tip, you are completely deluded."

"Come on, just a scrap!"

"I hate to agree, but she's just trying to use you to make Wycliffe jealous," Matt said.

He raised his brows. "Aces! I'll just have to help her with that plan."

"Tip!" Shoshanna cried in frustration. "She has a boyfriend!"

"And clearly she is in need of a better one."

"And you think you're that man?"

They turned as they heard the sound of ripping parchment, Donnie was tearing a corner from his assignment.

"No, Donnie, don't!" Shoshanna pleaded.

Donnie handed Tip the scrap. "Look, if he wants to do it, it's his funeral."

Tip quickly scrawled a note reading: _Meet me in the owlery at 8_ and stuffed it into the roll. "Now I just need a diversion so Wycliffe doesn't see... Matt?"

Matt put up his hands to stop him. "Oh no, I was against this plan from the start."

"Come on, Matt, please? They won't suspect you of anything."

Matt glanced around the hall, he had no desire to humiliate himself in front of everybody just so that Tip could play the romantic fool. It was then he saw Bridget piling her silver and napkin on her plate. She was leaving and he needed to speak to her. Who knows when he'd get another chance?

"Come on, I'll owe you one," Tip pleaded.

"Fine," Matt said, standing. He removed his glasses and handed them to Tip. "But you owe me."

"Matt, don't," Shoshanna tried.

"Anything, just name it."

Matt walked to the front off the hall, he took a few deep breathes as he stared out at the sea of people before him. Some of them had already taken notice and were prodding their friends and pointing at him. He turned to face the staff table.

Prof. McGonagall raised an eyebrow from her center seat. "Yes, Mr. Boot. Is there something you wish to say?"

He took another deep breath. It had been months since he had done this. He gazed up at the candles on the ceiling and turned around. This was so embarrassing, he could feel everyone's eyes on him, could hear them whispering. Tip would really owe him for this. One last breath.

He ran, getting as much speed as he could before launching himself into the front handspring that began his old tumbling run warm-up routine. He flipped end over end with a series of twists and handsprings thrown in before the final trick, a double flip in the air. Within moments of beginning, aside from the unforgiving stone floor and the hundreds of eyes, it felt good, like coming home. He'd forgotten how much he missed it. He landed, taking a large step back. There was utter silence from the Great Hall.

Suddenly a shout broke the dam of silence.

"Wooo!" cried Liam.

"Yeah!" Declan joined in, applauding. "That's our Keeper!"

The other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs joined in in the applause, even a few Ravenclaws, including Taro Matsumoto, deigned to give subdued applause. Matt bowed, still feeling somewhat ridiculous, but not in an entirely bad way.

Prof. McGonagall eyed him from the podium at the other end of the Great Hall, "Well, Mr. Boot, if you are quite finished with your little gymnastics display, might we begin dessert?"

Matt, still feeling the flush from his run, nodded, "Sorry, Professor. I've just always wanted to do that."

"I know the feeling. Now, if you would please..." She waved him on using her wand.

"Yes, ma'am." As he intentionally passed close by Bridget Kineely-McConville he whispered, "I know what you are."

* * *

"Where're you heading?" Donnie asked as he, Matt and Tip entered the castle from the grounds. The evening had been so fair that after they had been kicked off the pitch by the Slytherins they decided to continue tossing the quaffle about on the grounds like muggles.

"I think I'll head up to the Owlery," Tip said.

"You really think she's coming, don't you?"

"Well, it wouldn't do me any good not to be there when she shows up." Tip flashed a winning smile.

Donnie shook his head, "I will never understand how he can be so confident. What about you?"

"I think I'm going to go to the library, there's something I want to look up." Specifically he was desperate to read more about selkies. He had never thought about them much before but now he was practically starving for more information, even if it was just legend and myth.

"Well, I'm going to hit the showers. Maybe get a start on that assignment from Slughorn about the uses and cultivation of Moly."

"Catch you later then," Matt said, tossing Donnie the quaffle.

As Matt approached the Library he heard a whisper, "Matthew Boot."

He looked around but saw nothing. He shrugged.

"Over here," the voice whispered.

He turned to an empty classroom, or at least, what he thought was an empty classroom. The door opened and something black pulled him inside.

"Bridget!" he cried in surprise as she shut the door behind them. Her face was drawn, pensive, with dark bags under her great brown eyes. Had she even slept since yesterday? She began pacing back and forth.

"I knew it was stupid," she said almost more to herself then to him. "He always warned me not to swim when the moon was out, that it was too dangerous, that I might be seen. I promised him! I promised."

"Who warned you?" Matt asked.

"Dumbledore!" she said as if he should have known that.

"Wait, Dumbledore knew?"

"Of course he knew! He's been hiding me since I was six. Since they discovered my magic."

"Hiding you? From what? Who are they?"

"The Kingdom of the Selkies."

"But you are a selkie, aren't you? Why are they looking for you."

"They have to kill me, it's the law."

Matt was flabberghasted. "Why would they have to kill you?"

"It's... complicated." She plopped back into one of the chairs, clearly exhausted.

Matt pulled another chair across from her and sat. "Well, try me," he said.

She inhaled deeply.

"Once in a century the selkie kingdom gathers to choose their king from the descendants of the very first selkie, or at least that's so they say. Though he was the youngest son, my father was chosen to succeed his grandfather to the throne. A selkie king must take a bride and my father, well, he had been in love with a girl from the land since he was a pup. My mum had lived on an island with her family for years, it was a small town, smaller now with most of the islanders gone off to the cities for work instead of making their living from the sea. It was just she, her grandparents, some cousins, a few aunts and uncles, and her youngest brother. BUt like so many people on such small islands, she had selkie in her bloodline though she scarce knew it. My father would have loved her just the same regardless, he always said it was her spirit he loved most of all. As the king he was allowed to go ashore in human form twice a year during the equinox if he wished and so he did that very Spring, pretending to be a shipwrecked fisherman. He didn't fool mum for a minute, she knew him as the little seal who had watched her from the rocks years ago, but the story made it easier for her grandparents to digest. Well, it was love from the start. My great grandparents were understandably upset when she ran off with the handsome stranger the very night they met, made all the stranger by the fact they didn't take a boat. Of course, there was a great wagging of tongues in the selkie kingdom over the king marrying a human, even if she had selkie blood. There is much precaution taken that a selkie does not have children with anyone from the magical world."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know quite for certain except that it has something to do with something called a sampo."

"What's a sampo?"

"No one seems to know except that it's dangerous. So dangerous that if a selkie child is born with wizarding powers they are to be killed."

"So that's why they want to kill you?"

"Yes. Unknown to my mother my distant ancestor, eight generations back on my maternal grandmother's side, was adopted. Her adoptive parents were so adament that she was part of their family it was not discovered until I began to exhibit magical powers not of the selkie race. The woman had been a squib born to the Gaunt family. They were so ashamed of her they abandoned her at an orphanage and told everyone she had died."

This was just about too much for Matt, "Wait a minute! You're a Gaunt?"

She smiled wanly, "The last of the line, unless you believe in the cursed child."

Matt shook his head. "So you are a Gaunt... and a selkie... and the other selkie's want you dead."

"That is the short of it, yes." Bridget nodded in confirmation.

"So how did you get here?"

"When my father would not allow my execution my father's eldest brother led a coup to depose him and sent us into hiding. My father had heard of Dumbledore from the mermaids - yes, even in the underwater realms he is... was famous - he managed to hold the armies off long enough that my mother could smuggle me out of the palace to the home of her brother, my uncle, in the hopes he could find a way to get me to Dumbledore. I wish I remembered more of that day. I wish I could remember watching father come into the room, I wish I could remember how he said good morning, how it felt when my mother kissed me on the head. I wish I could remember what we ate or what the plates looked like. Small things. I wish I could remember their faces when they were happy. I can't remember my father's at all, just that his eyes were great and dark and he was vary handsome. But sometimes I wonder if I even remember that or simply remember my great grandmother telling me that. I remember my mother, I can see her hiding me under her cloak, telling me to be quiet. I remember running and stopping and watching as shadows passed down other corridors and I remember how afraid she looked and I wasn't sure why. It was only our home, there was nothing to be afraid of. I remember it was raining when we arrived at my uncle's house and we were soaked. And she whispered things to him, things I could not fully hear or understand. And then she left."

Bridget wiped her eye and took a deep breath before continuing.

"Uncle Jamie took me to London. He had no idea how to find Dumbledore or the Ministry of Magic. I'm the first witch in generations in my family, most of them had no idea there even was a world of wizards existing within our own. Then, one day, we say this... well giant hairy man - far too large to be a normal human - he was with a boy with glasses, who could not have been his son, and they disappeared into a pub. In retrospect I think Uncle Jamie might have had other worries than whether they were magical when he followed them in, but we watched the giant man, well, cause a wall to take itself apart. Now it makes sense, of course, but then... It was difficult but Uncle Jamie was able to send a letter to Dumbledore by owl post. We had not anticipated such a fast response, but by evening Dumbledore was at our inn door having read the letter. My uncle explained the situation as best he knew it and Dumbledore agreed it was best I go into hiding. He took me to a family he knew in Hogsmeade where I was to stay until such time as I was old enough to attend Hogwarts. He used to come by often to visit, at least every Sunday. It was like having a grandfather."

"So what happened to your mother and father?"

Bridget hung her head. "I don't know. Dumbledore thought my father might be in exile - he'd heard tales from the merfolk about a selkie living far in the middle of the ocean, bound to the form of a seal, and of a woman living alone on a nearby island whom the seal watches but is unable to go to. He thought it might have been them, but he... he died, before he could find out."

"I'm so sorry." Matt wasn't sure what he had expected. Not any of this.

Bridget stood, throwing her hands up. "I don't even know why they care so much to want to kill me. It's not even as though I'm even all that good at magic. I doubt I could get the sampo to work even if I knew what it was. I'm not even sure it still exists. Neither Flamel or Dumbledore could find a single reference to it - the only thing they could find was an ancient legend that was already well over a thousand years old and all it said was that the sampo could make salt, bread, and gold and had been lost centuries before. How is bread and salt something to kill a child over?"

Matt shook his head. He had no answer.

"I'm sorry to have dragged you into all of this. I promised Dumbledore. He told me it was dangerous but I didn't listen. You haven't told anyone, have you?" Her dark eyes were desperate, pleading.

"No." Matt shook his head, suddenly very glad he had told his friends the lie about the poem, which had, at the moment, simply seemed easier than saying he had seen Bridget Kineely-McConville naked. "No one. And I won't. I promise."

She threw her arms around him. "Oh thank you!" Realizing what she had done she instantly created some space between them. She demurred, looking towards the stone floor, but her cheeks were tinted with rose. "Thank you. I can't tell you what this means to me." She rushed from the room.

"Don't mention it," Matt said to the empty doorway.

* * *

Late that night, after most of the other students had gone to their beds, Matt sat in front of the fireplace in the empty common room reading a large book he had found of legendary creatures in Scottish mythology. _Male selkies sometimes come to shore in order to seduce women, but they can only remain in the presence of humans for a short time before needing to return to the sea. After which time they must wait seven years before they can return to the shore,_ he read. So it was possible for a selkie to be bound from coming ashore like the merfolks' tale had said.

Behind him he heard the sound of the door opening, which was strange for it was well after curfew. Matt turned to see Tip crawl in through the portal.

"Have you really been waiting all this time?" Matt asked.

"Yeah," Tip said.

"She never showed?"

"No. But I found this!" Tip's eyes shone as he pulled something sparkling gold and ruby from his pocket. He dangled it out in front of Matt, apparently unaware that he was moving it so much it was impossible to actually make out what it was.

"What is it?"

"It's a Gryffindor pin. She must have been too busy to meet so she left it for me to find."

Matt grabbed Tip's hand to stop the object from shaking. Sure enough it was a pin of ruby shield with a golden lion's head roaring within, it was clearly an expensive piece - probably more expensive then any Weasley would own and certainly more than they would be willing to part with. He was skeptical. "Where did you find it?"

"On the floor, under a pile of straw."

"Are you sure she left it for you?"

"Of course. She must have hidden it under the straw to keep Wycliffe from seeing. What other reason could there be?"

Matt could easily think of a dozen reasons that had nothing to do with Cass Weasley or Byron Wycliffe but he was fairly certain Tip wouldn't hear any of them.

"What are you still doing up?" Tip asked, crawling up on the easy chair's arm to see over it better. "What's that?" He pointed to the illustration of a selkie man.

Matt closed his book. "It's nothing, just a book of Scottish legends."

"Why would you be reading something like that?"

"Just something to do, I guess."

Tip slid off the arm of the chair, "Well, I'm going to bed."

Matt hadn't even realized how tired he was until Tip mentioned the word bed. His entire body felt heavy. So much had happened it seemed crazy to him to think tomorrow was only Tuesday. It was as if the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw had been a month ago, not three days. He struggled to pull himself from the overstuffed chair, momentarily contemplating just sleeping their rather than even try to get up. He managed to push himself up to standing.

"Yeah, I suppose it is getting late," he said, picking up the book. He followed Tip to the third year boys' dormitory.


	15. Chapter 15: Holly Days

**Chapter 15: Holly Days**

* * *

"I noticed you've been spending a lot more time with the Ravenclaw Chaser, Bridget Kineely-McConville," Liam said, taking Matt's rook as they played chess in front of the fireplace of the Gryffindor Common Room, their bellies full from the end of term feast. Some of the other students still milled about, even at this late hour, but most were already in their rooms packing for the Holidays which began tomorrow.

"Yeah. Well, any amount of time is more than nothing." Matt moved his pawn forward.

"You know what I mean." Liam was not one to be easily deflected. "It's the talk of the school. I don't know how you got so lucky, I mean, she's no Cass Weasley, but she's still one of the prettiest girls in Hogwarts."

Matt hadn't realized how the time he was spending with Bridget must appear to those on the outside. At first, even he had been surprised when she asked if she could join his table at the library - in fact, he had been so stunned he hadn't known what to say at all and they had sat working opposite each other for hours in complete silence, until Madam Pince closed the library. It was well over a week before he stopped being so nervous around her - it was hard for him to get over having seen her... in the state he had seen her in. True, he had seen nothing more than the back of her, but she had already been a waking dream to him and that had caused him to completely short-circuit.

"She's just a friend. I've been helping her study for midterms."

"I might buy that if she wasn't already one of the best students in school and two years above you."

"Look, she's nervous about the OWLs, ok? And I've already sat them so I know what to expect."

"But why not go to some other Ravenclaw?"

"You know how they are."

"Not keen to help another student possibly do better than them," Liam supplied, a bit deflated. "A Ravenclaw's best friends are their books."

"Well maybe if you weren't always hovering over me I wouldn't have lost it!" the irritable voice of Cass Weasley said. Matt and Liam both turned from the game to see Cass Weasley stride from the portal into the Common Room as Byron Wycliffe came through, dropping to the floor behind her. Clearly they had been arguing.

"What? That doesn't even make any sense!" he said, flabberghasted. "That pin was worth fifty galleons!"

Cass rounded on him. "Well if you were worried so much about it then maybe you shouldn't have given it to me."

"Maybe I thought you would take care of it! But I guess it's true what they say about not trusting Weasleys with things of value."

Cass's eyes narrowed. "You know what? We're through!" She spun on her heel and marched up the stairs leading to the girl's dormitories.

"Wait! Cass! I didn't mean it!" Wycliffe chased after Cass, but the moment he stepped on the stair it turned into a stoney slide, an event Cass had evidently been prepared for because she came down like a rocket, feet first, bowling Wycliffe over. She stood and brushed herself off, then marched right back out to the portal. Wycliffe struggled to his feet, trying to chase after her. "Cass, wait!" he called. "Where are you going?"

She turned, the fire in her eyes enough to cause Wycliffe to shrink back. "Away from you!" she shouted and climbed through the portal into the hall.

"Cass!" Wycliffe attempted to open the portal door but found it locked. "Cass!" He pounded on the door, his frustration growing. He turned, his face blotchy and red, his normally immaculate hair falling over his forehead. He saw Matt. "What are you looking at, Squib? _Alohamora!_ " The door gave way, and Wycliffe scuttled through it.

"What was that all about?" Matt asked.

"Byron gave Cass a Gryffindor pin for her birthday a few months ago and she lost it."

Matt had the sense he might know where that pin had gone off to. "What did it look like?"

"It was a ruby red shield with a gold lion. Some sort of family heirloom or something."

"Oh," Matt said, vividly recalling the pin Tip had found some weeks back.

It was not difficult to remember seeing as Tip kept the pin on his bedside table attached to the frame of a still photo of he and his mother flashing peace signs as they climbed Mt. Ayers. The photo was pulled in so close to their faces it was difficult to tell they were climbing at all if not for the climbing gear they wore. Beside their faces the golden lion's head mimed a roar. He would hate to tell Tip that Cass had simply lost it and maybe he should return it to her. Though, even to his logical brain it did seem a bit strange the Cass had just happened to lose it in the owlery, and that Tip would happen to find it. It was a coincidence that left too much room for leaps of faith - and Tip would happily go charging off those cliffs. It had to be a coincidence. She could not have intentionally left it. Even if it were just to give her an excuse to break up with Wycliffe, she would have had the consideration not to lead Tip on by leaving it there when there were literally thousands of other places to conveniently lose something at Hogwarts. At least Matt hoped she would. From somewhere in the distance he heard the tapping of freezing rain against the window. He shivered slightly, glad to be inside by the fire.

"Check," Liam said, moving his knight into sight of the king.

"Been a while since you've been able to say that," Matt teased.

"It'll be check mate in a minute."

"We'll see about that." Matt took the knight with a rook. But Liam had anticipated this move and Matt, his attention drawn from the game by Cass's lost pin, had failed to notice Liam's pawn. The match was over in three moves.

"Finally!" Liam raised his fists in triumph. "And don't you go spoiling it by telling me you let me win."

"Consider it an early Christmas gift," Matt said, slyly.

Liam's enthusiasm seemed to wilt. "Really?"

"No, not really. When have I ever let you win? I should have seen that pawn. No wonder you were making such brazen moves."

Liam grinned again, pulling his pieces off the board. "It was all part of my plan."

"Do you want to have another round?"

"And risk losing? Not a chance. I'm starting Christmas break on a victory."

The rapping on the window grew louder.

"That's some rain out there," Matt said.

Liam fixed him with an odd look. "It's not supposed to rain today."

They both looked to the window where a brown owl was pecking at the glass.

"Tycho!" Matt cried.

"Wilson, let him in," Liam called to a young blonde Gryffindor boy who could not have been older than his first or second year. Wilson, who seemed more thrilled that Liam knew his name than anything, opened the window, allowing Tycho to fly in and land on the back of one of the easy chairs, a letter tied securely to his leg.

"Who-who!" Tycho hooted insistently, holding out his leg. Matt quickly undid the letter and read.

"Who is it from?" Liam asked.

"It's from my mum." Matt's face fell as he continued to read. "Mum says that the dementor storm is coming their way and that they are being evacuated. She says they are sorry but due to the circumstances they will be visiting Terry in Egypt for the holiday. They will send loads of books and presents but..." Matt trailed off. He threw the letter onto the table. "She wants Izzy and I to spend the holiday at Hogwarts."

"That's rough, mate."

"I was looking forward to seeing them. I mean, don't get me wrong, Hogwarts is great and all, but I want to see my parents. It'll be my first Christmas dinner away from home."

"At least you'll have your sister."

Matt smirked. "Yeah, I suppose there's that. What about you, will you be doing anything for Christmas?"

Liam frowned slightly. "Yeah, we'll be spending it in London."

It seemed odd to Matthew that what should have been exciting elicited such an unhappy response from Liam. He would have loved to visit Diagon Alley at Christmas. He could just imagine how it must look. In his mind he could see the great pine garlands hung across the storefronts and exquisitely decorated trees in the shop windows with who knows what shiny baubles gallivanting about. "Aren't you excited?" he asked.

"To be honest, I'd rather be staying here."

"Why?!" Matt was flabbergasted.

Liam motioned for Matt to lean in. "Don't tell anyone, alright?" Matt nodded. "Look, my brother, he hasn't be right in the head since the... you know..." He pointed his finger like a wand at his temple. "It's not meant to be done by two people at the same time. He's had a few bad turns. He was staying with my Uncle Tiberius in Norfolk, hunting seems to help, but they had a row and he... well he had another bad turn, the worst one yet. He's been at St. Mungo's almost a month."

Matt was stunned. "You never said anything."

"What was I supposed to say?" Liam's volume rose with his emotion, red splotches appearing on his cheeks. "Hey my brother's a nutter so they locked him up in the loony bin?" A clutch of girls who were drawing star charts and gossiping turned. Liam caught himself, calming himself down. "We don't like to talk about it. Mum and Dad call him a hero, but whenever they talk about him they talk like he died. Their dead son who's still alive. Mum breaks down in tears whenever we have to see him at St. Mungo's and dad has to take her out of the room. And so I'm left standing there looking at my brother in that white beds with its white sheets and nothing around him because he's not allowed to have anything and we try to talk about quidditch until mum and dad come back. And I hate it. I know I should be glad that he survived when so many students died in the battle, but sometimes I wish he'd died too. It'd be better than living like that."

"I didn't know. Is there any hope?"

"The healers are optimistic. But they always are. I've never met a healer who would give you a straight answer. Even when someone's died they still try to avoid saying the words until the last moment." It sounded as though Liam had spent a lot of time in St. Mungo's. "At least Neville will be there."

"Neville? You mean Neville Longbottom?" Matt could scarcely hide his enthusiasm. Neville Longbottom was one of the famous heroes of the Battle of Hogwarts, now an Auror. But beyond that he had recently published one of Matt's favorite herbology pamplets on the plants of the Baltic Sea.

"Yeah. You might have heard about his mum and dad."

"No." Matt shook his head.

"Well, he's gotten so famous of course Rita Skeeter had to let it slip in her tell-all book about the Heroes of Hogwarts. I thought you might've read it since you read everything."

"I don't read Rita Skeeter if I can help it. Gossip rags aren't really my thing."

Liam smirked. "So there is something you won't read afterall. They were tortured into insanity by Bellatrix Lestrange, her husband, her husband's brother, and Barty Crouch jr. during the first Wizarding War." Those names again. It was like they just couldn't stop until they had tainted every wizarding family. "They've been at St. Mungo's ever since. Neville always comes to visit them for Christmas. We go for a muggle ice cream after. Sometimes you just don't want to be around magic, you know? I like the ice cream with the honey-flavoured bits."

"That really stinks," Matt said, sympathetically.

"It won't be all bad. We'll still get together with the rest of the family at Godric's Hollow like every year. We'll play our traditional New Years Eve quidditch match. Hopefully this chess game is the start of a winning streak."

"You just got lucky," Matt said.

"Damn right I did. And let's hope it keeps up. I wouldn't mind being crowned the New Year's King of Quidditch this year. Then all my cousins will have to do whatever I say for the rest of the night." Liam leaned his chair back, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring up into space, lost in his own imaginings.

Matt started putting away the chess board.

* * *

The next morning everyone was saying their goodbyes in the entryway.

"If I'd known I'm sure mum and dad would have invited you and Izzy to stay with us," Donald said. "I'm sure you could just come. I mean, what's two more mouths to feed? We could send an owl ahead from the train. They'd be glad to have you."

"I can't, mum and dad want us to stay here. They say they would feel safer knowing we were at Hogwarts."

"I don't know how," Declan said, clapping Matt on the shoulder, "you get in more fixes than the rest of us combined. Here." He handed Matt a small squareish package wrapped in yesterday's Daily Prophet. "I know it's a bit early, but if I take it home I'll probably forget to send it. Merry Christmas, mate."

"Thanks, Declan! I'm sorry I don't have anything to give you."

"You're giving me the quidditch cup, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Well, I'll try my best."

Declan raised a brow at him suggesting this was not the answer he wanted.

"I'm just not sure how well it'll wrap. That's never been my strong suit."

"Now we're talking. Don't forget, I want you doing drills every day. Don't think you get to take it easy because it's the holidays."

"Aye aye captain!" Polly said, appearing on the other side of Matt, giving Declan a mock salute.

"You too MacHeath. I don't want you getting soft."

"Me? Soft?" She flexed her bicep. "Not likely. If anyone it'll be you gettin' soft on those fancy chocolates your grandmum buys you."

"Fancy chocolates?" Matt asked teasingly.

"Oh yeah," Polly answered. "Declan's a right spoiled little prince when he gets home, sittin' 'round the fire with his grandmum feedin' him bonbons."

Matt tried to suppress a laugh at the image of Declan sitting in an easy chair by the fire in Christmas pajamas with his doting grandmother feeding him chocolates but could not which Polly, Donnie, and Sean, who had just come up, echoed.

"Alright already, enough," Declan said, irritably. "One more crack and I really will bewitch bludgers to chase you when we get back."

"Oh no! I'm shaking," Polly mocked, walking away on fake-shaking legs.

"Oh you will be!" Declan called off after her. "Anyway, Merry Christmas, Boot."

"Merry Christmas, Declan." Matt said.

Declan began walking away, turning as he did so, "And don't forget, I want to see at least a quarter of that book filled out by the time I get back."

It took Matt a moment to figure out what book he was talking about, then he remembered the present in his hands. He tore it open.

"What is it?" Donnie asked.

Matt held it so they both could see. "It's a quidditch playbook. But it's completely blank."

"He probably wants to see if you are as good at making plays as you are at breaking them," Taro said from behind them. Both boys jumped. "Happy Holidays Mr. Boot, I look forward to seeing what you come up with." He tipped his hat and continued along.

Both boys stared after him with eyes as large as saucers.

"That was..." Donnie began.

"Taro Masumoto," Matt finished in awe.

"You look like a pair of lovestruck schoolgirls," Shoshanna's voice cut through their amaze, bringing them back to reality.

"Shosh, where's your trunk?" Donnie asked, his cheeks vaguely pink from the sting of her insult.

"I'm not going home."

"You aren't? But you've been on about latkes and loukoumades all week!"

"Yeah, my parents were ordered to evacuate due to the dementors, so they decided that this was the year they would visit the Holy Land. I just got the owl yesterday. Next year in Jerusalem!" she said, making a mock toast.

"Why aren't they taking you?" Matt asked.

"They don't want to take any chances with so many death eaters still at large. There are rumors that some are stirring up trouble in the middle east."

"So this is as much about work as it is about vacation." Donnie said.

"Yeah." Shoshanna said, glumly.

Matt suddenly realized he had no idea what Shoshanna's parents did. "What do you parents do?"

"Mum works for the Ministry's Department of International Affairs and my dad works as her translator. You would not believe how many dark wizards try to destabilize countries in order to put themselves in power."

Matt felt a sudden weight on his back, as though a small child had hopped on for a piggyback ride. "Hey, did you hear?" Tip practically shouted into Matt's ear.

"I may never hear again if you keep shouting into my ear," Matt said.

"Oh... sorry." Tip slid off of Matt's back, his expression still one of pure elation.

"Hear what?" Shoshanna asked.

"Cass and Wycliffe broke up. Everyone's been talking about it."

"Really?" Shoshanna raised a brow. "I didn't think they'd ever break up. Do you know why?"

"Who cares? He was a git and she dumped him. Now she can find a better man."

"Like you?" Shoshanna teased. "It's probably just a rumor."

"Why not me? I am the star seeker for the Hufflepuff quidditch team and the king of pranks at Hogwarts."

"Self-proclaimed," Shoshanna interjected.

"I wish I could stay for Christmas too, think of all the secret passages I could find! But dad says Christmas is a time to be with family." Tip rolled his eyes.

Matt felt a heavy weight across his shoulders and turned to see Liam holding out a package to him. This one was actually wrapped in real wrapping paper with little golden snitches in red santa hats and trailing evergreen garlands literally flying in diagonal lines across the glossy white background. "Hey Matt, I know it's a bit early, but Merry Christmas," Liam said, handing him the present.

"Thanks, I got you something too." Matt tugged a bag of fizzing whizbees out of his pocket. "Sorry, I didn't get a chance to wrap it."

Liam took them happily. "Ah, fizzing whizbees! Great!"

"Yeah... great..." Donnie appeared crestfallen.

Matt rolled his eyes knowing exactly what the problem was. "I slipped it in your trunk when you weren't looking."

"Really?" Donnie's face immediately brightened.

"Did you really think I'd forget to get a present for my best mate?"

Tip, not the least bit interested in the conversation, interrupted with what he clearly felt was a subject of far more import. "Hey MacLaggen, is it true that Cass and Wycliffe broke up?"

"See for yourself," MacLaggen said, indicating with a nod to where Wycliffe stood with Jerry Card as Cass approached from the dining hall with her two friends, Muriel Roberts and Claire Warren, chattering happily. As they caught sight of Wycliffe all chatter immediately cease and the trio assumed a haughty, cool look as they passed. Wycliffe appeared as though he wanted to speak but the iciness of her countenance seemed to freeze the words on his lips.

Cass pointedly made certain not to so much as look at Byron as she sashayed by. He stared agog as instead, as though only to further rub it in, when she passed by Tip she ruffled his hair without so much as a word, a triumphant grin across her face. Tip looked so thrilled Matt feared he might literally explode. "Merry Christmas Cass!" Tip managed to shout as the last flick of her long red hair passed through the doors.

"Did you see that? Did you see that?!" Tip practically shouted, his voice cracking. "I've got to go catch her!"

"Good luck, mate," Liam said, almost laughing.

Tip scuttled to the giant double doors, but then, as though realizing he had forgotten something, he turned and waved with his whole arm, shouting, "Merry Christmas everyone!"

"Don't worry, I'll get his trunk," Sean said with a bit of a laugh. Easily hefting the trunk onto his back so that it hung next to his own. "Easier to carry two than one, anyhow. Weight's more even. Have a Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," they echoed back.

"I'd better go too." Donnie said. "Merry Christmas, Matt." They clapped each other on the back in a hug. "Happy Hanukkah, Shosh." They seemed uncertain what to do alternately going for a handshake and a hug and vice versa. Finally, giving up, Donnie waved. "Well, see ya."

"Yeah," Shoshanna said, turning in the opposite direction.

"Aren't you going too?" Matt asked Liam.

"In a minute. Come on, open it."

In all the chaos, Matt had forgotten about the present. "Oh yeah!" He tore open the packaging, revealing an album with a black binder.

"It's for your Chocolate frog cards. I noticed you were using a gum band to keep them together."

"Thanks, mate," Matt said flipping through the pages, already planning which cards he would put on the front page. Of course the Ling Fen card Tip had given him from China would have to be in the top row.

"Where's your trunk, Squib?" Liam's jaw clenched at the sound of the familiar mocking voice. Matt turned to see Ceelee sitting on the wide stone banister of the great staircase.

He allowed half of a wry smile. "In my dorm, under the bed."

Ceelee slid down from the banister and sauntered over, "You aren't going home?"

"Nah. My parents are in Egypt visiting my brother. I'm guessing you aren't going home either."

"What was your first clue, Sherlock?" Matt always found it amusing, these little moments of rebellion in Ceelee when she would make reference to muggle things. "But I see McLaggen's all packed and ready to go." Her aspect grew cool. "Merry Christmas McLaggen. I hope you enjoy your time with your dear and loving family."

"Sod off, Carrow." McLaggen said. Without another word he turned and walked away.

Ceelee stared after him, doing her best to hide her shock behind a veneer of indifference. "What's gotten into him?"

Matt sighed heavily walked away. She didn't know, he had to remind himself. It was the only thing keeping him from giving her a piece of his mind.

"Matt. Matt! Where are you going?" He heard Ceelee call out from behind him. She jogged to catch up. "Come on, was it something I said? I'm sorry I called you a squib, alright?" She grabbed onto his arm. "Matt?"

He turned, "Look, do you really have to be such a jerk all the time?"

Stunned, she dropped Matt's arm.

"Look, I'll talk to you later. I just can't right now. I... I have to go find Holly." He walked away, still livid, looking for the little girl with the flaxen braids and crooked smile.

He watched as the last of the stragglers made their way out the door, making a point to avoid Ceelee. Had he missed Holly? No. She would have at least found him before she left. He was sure of it. He could feel the corners of chocolate frog box in his other pocket jutting into his leg. Maybe she wasn't going home for Christmas. Maybe she didn't really have a home. She never talked about it. She wouldn't be the only student orphaned by the wizarding wars. He decided to check the one place he was sure she might be.

* * *

Sure enough, huddled in a little corner, surrounded by stacks of books, sat Holly. She reminded Matt of a little white mouse.

"Merry Christmas, Holly," he said. The sound of his voice startled her. She looked up from her book to find Matt holding out the chocolate frog box. "Don't worry, I checked, it's a Merlin card."

She grinned widely, showing off her crooked front teeth. "Thanks Matt! I have something for you but it's not quite done."

"That's ok, as long as it's ready by Christmas. What are you reading?"

"It's a book on counter-curses," she said.

"Any good ones?" Matt sat himself down tailor-style next to her and in that way they passed the morning.

At lunch it became painfully clear how empty the school had become. At the Hufflepuff table there was only he and Shoshanna, a second year named Josie Carmichael, and Holly, who had required no invitation, only the nod that it was okay to join them. When Izzy came down they waved her over. She came pulling along a fourth year who introduced himself as Phitchit Sirisopa.

"Hey, Bridget!" Come sit with us," Matt called out as the dark haired Ravenclaw chaser entered. Glancing down the empty Ravenclaw table, she sat herself down at the Hufflepuff table across from Holly. Three other Ravenclaw girls saw the little knot of differently housed students and joined them, though at a bit of a distance. Besides the Hufflepuff table, the only table not empty was the Slytherin table, which still held at least a dozen students.

"What's with all the Slytherins?" Matt asked.

"Azkaban orphans," Shoshanna answered.

"Azkaban orphans?"

"Yeah," Phitchit said. "Their parents are in Azkaban for serving you-know-who so they're stuck here."

Bridget surveyed them. "It's sad, they have no homes to go back to."

"I never thought I'd see you here, Bridget," Shoshanna said. "I figured you'd be in Ireland."

"Oh yes. My parents are... traveling," she said. Matt could see the pain in her eyes as she lied.

"That stinks," Shoshanna said, sticking a piece of broccoli with her fork.

"It's not so bad, you get used to it."

"Carrow sure looks cross today. I wonder what's gotten into her," Phitchit said. Matt turned to see Ceelee sitting, cross-armed with a sullen expression on her face as she stared at her plate of food. "Well, whatever it is, I hope she doesn't take it out on the rest of us."

"And Darius Flint now has worms for ears," Shoshanna narrated as the aforementioned Flint began to scream and ran out of the room holding two long worms out from the side of his head. Matt had to hide a roll of his eyes. He would talk to Ceelee the next time he had the chance. For someone who acted so tough, she sure was sensitive at times.

"You know, I really don't feel like pudding with lunch anyway," Phitchit said, grabbing a leg of chicken and standing. "I'll see you guys later."

"What's that?" Holly asked. "You'd like more food?" Matt and a few others turned to see who she was talking to. She was holding her mouse, Artemis, and gently putting small bits of food in his mouth. Though the rodent appeared asleep it seemed to be chewing and swallowing the food. "Oh, no more peas? You don't like them? I'm sorry. Maybe some corn? No it's not creamed. Oh, you want chicken." She took a bit of chicken and placed it in the mouse's mouth. Matt watched as it slowly chewed and swallowed the chicken.

Shoshanna leaned in close to Matt. "That girl is weird," she whispered. At the moment, as Holly slowly dribbled a spoonful of lamb stew into Artemis's mouth, he found he had to agree.

* * *

The next few days passed in a blur of glorious freedom. It was quite a marvelous thing to be at Hogwarts without annoyances like classes to get in the way. Matt, Shoshanna, Izzy, Phitchit, Holly, and Bridget formed something of an unofficial explorers club. It had been Phitchit and Izzy's idea and they had gotten quite a few nasty stares from Madam Pince as they pitched their plan in the library to the others. They decided that the best way to use the time would be to explore the whole of the castle, leaving not a single secret passageway or moving staircase uninvestigated. They would then make a map, a new map, listing everything they had found. Afterall, they said, the old maps were useless now that the castle had changed itself following the Battle of Hogwarts. Matt was surprised to see that Holly was the first to want to join the club, volunteering herself and her mouse to join the effort. Perhaps it was Matt's imagination, but it seemed like she was talking to that mouse more now. It was more difficult to convince Bridget, but Phitchit finally succeeded by arguing that there was no point in reading _Hogwarts: A History_ if you never actually saw it all.

"I think Godric Gryffindor designed the headmaster's room," Phitchit said. "Look, the door has a griffin on it. Griffin-door, get it?" He had pitched this argument before in their current quest to discover the identities of the rooms designed by the four founders.

Shoshanna rolled her eyes. "Well, if Godric Gryffindor were feeble-minded enough to find that joke funny, then perhaps."

"Well, which room do you think he designed?"

"Oh no, I'm not saying your wrong. If anything I think it makes perfect sense the way you put it." She was very clearly mocking him.

"We should see if we can find the Chamber of Secrets," Izzy suggested for the dozenth time. "That's Salazar Slytherin's room. They say only five people have been in there since he closed it off. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and You. Know. Who." She scrunched up her face with excitement as she said the last name. "They say there's a basilisk skeleton there with fangs that contain the deadliest poison known to man."

"That sounds like a good reason not to go." Matt said, though he was secretly just as keen to see it as she was, he was just as aware of the stories of Harry Potter's time in the Chamber and not eager to find out whether more dangers than just a basilisks haunted those tunnels. At least, not with his baby sister.

"But only the most powerful witches and wizards have ever set foot in there. We have to go," she whined.

"No one even knows where the entrance is," he countered.

Izzy looked like she wanted to reply but, finding no response, fell into a petulant silence crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip.

"So, do you think Rowena Ravenclaw's room is the library or the music room," Bridget asked.

"It's in the third floor girl's bathroom, the sink with the snake on the faucet."

All eyes turned to Holly, who was stroking Artemis's head.

"What did you say?" Shoshanna asked.

"The Chamber of Secrets. The entrance is in the girls bathroom on the third floor. It's the sink with the snake on the faucet." She winced, as if trying to remember something difficult. "If you talk to the snake it opens up."

"How do you know this?" Matt asked.

Holly hesitated, her eyes held a faraway look for a moment before returning back to the present. "The ghost girl told me. She died there." The way she said those words, in her simple, innocent tone, was rather unsettling.

"The ghost girl?" Phitchit asked.

"Ugh! She must mean Moaning Myrtle!" Shoshanna said.

"Moaning Myrtle?" The name was new to Matt.

"Yeah, she's the bathroom ghost. She's repulsive."

"So all we have to do is talk to a snake faucet? What are we waiting for?" Izzy said, immediately taking off for the third floor.

"Wait! Izzy!" Matt called after her. "We're not ready! We don't have any of our equipment!" But it was too late.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going," Phitchit said, excitedly, jogging after her.

Shoshanna rolled her eyes. "Well, we'd better make sure they don't kill themselves."

In a matter of minutes they were all staring at the little snake carved into the faucet.

"Well here goes," Izzy said taking a deep breath. Matt braced himself. "Open!" she commanded the snake. Nothing happened. "Open!. Didn't you hear me? I said: open! I command you chamber of secrets to open!"

Phitchit pushed her aside. "Maybe it needs a man's voice to open it. I mean that would make sense, wouldn't it? If girls could open it just by talking to it, wouldn't it be open all the time?" He planted his feet on the floor and squared his shoulders. "Open!" he commanded. Still nothing. "Maybe it has a secret password. Salazar. Slytherin. Voldemort."

Shoshanna socked Phitchit's shoulder. "Why would it be You-Know-who?"

"I don't know! The Heir of Slytherin commands you to open!"

A strange laugh echoed from one of the toilet stalls. All heads turned as a greyish girl wearing glasses, with her hair pulled up in pigtails, floated up from the stall. "That's not how you do it silly."

Shoshanna made a disgusted face and whispered, "Moaning Myrtle."

Matt looked up as the ghost, "How do you do it then?"

She flew over to them, floating while rotating in place bringing to Matthew's mind a boardwalk sausage. "Well, I'm not going to tell just anyone."

"Who will you tell?" Shoshanna said, a clear note of exasperation in her voice.

"Well certainly not you!" Moaning Myrtle scowled at her. She flew around them. "Ugly, ugly, ugly, ugly," she said as she passed each of the girls. "You're kind of cute," she said to Matt. "Oh, but you!" She flew up to Phitchit, pressing her ghostly form against him is what was probably meant to be a flirtatious way. "You're gorgeous. Would you like to share a stall sometime?"

Phitchit was genuinely taken by surprise. "I-I-I," He stuttered.

"Sorry, Myrtle. It's a girl's room. He's not allowed," Shoshanna said.

"Oh pooh. What do you know? You're hideous. Besides, he's here now, isn't he?" She rested her head against Phitchit's shoulder.

"It's against school rules to date a ghost," Matt said.

"It is? Well, how about a kiss then?"

"Um, I don't know," Phitchit said. "I don't want to get a detention." Matt wasn't sure if he was just playing along or genuinely thought there was a school rule about relationships with ghosts. There might have been, for all Matt knew, it seemed sensible.

She walked her fingers up Phitchit's very tense chest. "Give me a kiss and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Ummm..."

"On the lips." Myrtle said, flying in front of him. Myrtle leaned forward with her lips puckered, in the way a child might.

"Come on, Phitchit," Izzy said. "Give her a kiss so we can open it."

"Fine." Phitchit leaned forward and gave her a quick peck. He shivered from his head to his toes. "Now tell us. How did they get in the Chamber."

Moaning Myrtle laughed, flying back up to the ceiling. "They hissed at it," she said, giggling. "It really was the silliest thing. Well, see you around, loverboy." She disappeared back into the toilet stall where a flushing sound announced her departure.

"They hissed at it?" Phitchit said, mildly disgusted. "So we just hiss at it?" He and Izzy started hissing. Nothing happened.

"Come on, guys!" Izzy urged. The rest of them joined in in half-hearted hissing. Matt felt ridiculous. His eyes caught Bridget's as she was hissing and he couldn't help but blush. He turned away to hide it and saw Holly, simply standing there, watching, with her mouse sticking out of her front pocket. With its ears back it looked a bit like a furry snake. And idea struck him.

"Wait a minute! Everyone stop," he said.

"What is it? Why are we stopping?" Izzy demanded.

"Salazar Slytherin was a famous parselmouth, right? And You Know Who?"

"Of course!" Shoshanna said. "And that article Rita Skeeter wrote about Harry Potter said he was rumored to be a parselmouth too!"

"He might have taught Ron Weasley or Hermione Granger how to speak it. But what we're doing, it's just gibberish."

"So what are you saying?" Phitchit asked. "We can't get in by hissing at it?"

"That depends, how good's your parseltongue?" Shoshanna said, sarcastically.

"Bloody hell. That was my first kiss. And I just wasted it."

Izzy piped up, "It wasn't wasted. You're probably the only Gryffindor ever to kiss a ghost."

Phitchit allowed a half smirk, but then it faded. "Yeah, but did it have to be Moaning Myrtle?"

At this, they all laughed.

* * *

"Well, why didn't he tell me!" Ceelee shouted. Matt had kept an eye out for Ceelee over the past few days but she always seemed to be with someone else. Finally, on Christmas Eve, he found her alone, sitting on the railing of the bridge with her legs dangling off into the void below. "How was I supposed to know his brother is in the nut-"

Matt shot her a warning glare from where he stood next to her.

"At St. Mungo's," she corrected in a more subdued tone.

"He probably thought you'd just use it against him."

"I'd never go that far! He's the one who uses people's families against them."

"Yeah, but it's not like you've ever tried being nice to him."

"When has he ever been nice to me? The stupid pratt can't leave me alone for a minute. It's like he's always waiting for an excuse to have a go at me."

"The way I see it, you give as good as you get."

She was flabbergasted by this. "It doesn't matter, he still could have told me."

"When? It's not like you guys ever actually talk."

"So?" She pounded the railing beneath her in frustration, shaking it so hard that Matt instinctively made to catch her to keep her from falling into the abyss. "Ugh! I hate my dad! Why does he always have to ruin things for me?!"

"Well, you don't have to help him along."

She shot Matt a glare so sharp if it had been a knife Matt was certain he would have been cut in two. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Maybe you could trying to be a bit nicer to him. He's not such a bad guy once you get to know him."

"I'm nothing but nice to him!"

"The day I met you you gave him antlers."

"He deserved it! He was making fun of my name."

"Yeah, but did that really warrant antlers?"

"He's lucky antlers were all that I gave him. It's not like I chose my name." She huffed, then broke out into a sly smile. "You have to admit, it was funny watching him try to walk through the train."

Matt couldn't suppress the chuckle the memory elicited. "Yeah, he had to walk through sideways."

Ceelee turned around and hopped down. "Look, it's simple, if he starts being nicer to me, I'll be nicer to him. But I'm not going to paint a target on my back."

"Fine."

"Good." She turned to leave.

A thought occurred to Matt. "Hey, Ceelee. Would you like to play some chess? I don't really have anything to do this evening." Even as he said it, he remembered he did, indeed, have something very important to do.

"Nah, I've got to keep an eye on Flint. He thinks just because there aren't other students around he and the other Slytherins can get away with murder. Not literally, of course. He's been trying to take over for a while. I'd rather not make it easy."

"Then, I guess I'll see you around."

"Not if I see you first."

"Then I'll be a toad."

She smirked. "Something like that."

"Well, come down sometime. I've got something for you for Christmas."

"Yeah, whatever." She waved dismissively as she walked away with a slight smile.

* * *

That evening, Matt dug through his chest to the very bottom where a small object had been carefully hidden away. He had worked hard to get it as right as he could, but his skills were not nearly equal to the task and the little painted wooden object was oddly shaped with lopsided features. If only he could perform a transfiguration spell! Then it would be perfect! Exactly as he pictured it in his mind. He sighed at its misshapen form. He hoped it would be the thought that counted. Wrapping it carefully in the paper from Liam's gift, he gathered up his courage and headed off to that long forgotten hallway.

Arriving at the heavy door that no longer seemed quite so shrouded in shadow, he knocked on the ancient wooden planks. There was no answer.

He knocked again. "Mr. Filch?" he called. Still no answer. Filch must be out in the halls. He wondered if he should leave the present there when he felt a whispery sensation about his ankles. He looked down to see the bony form of the sandy furred Mrs. Norris looking up at him with her lantern-like eyes. She meowed.

"Hello, Mrs. Norris," he said, crouching down to scratch under her neck. "Do you know where your owner is?"

She meowed again and trotted down the corridor into the darker region, away from where he had come.

"Wait up!" Matt called, running after her. She stopped, turning her head and meowing impatiently. He followed her through a number of halls and up a long spiral staircase he was certain he had never seen before. She turned again at the top and meowed again.

"Are you sure there's not a faster way to get there?" Matt panted from halfway up the stair. Mrs. Norris meowed in what sounded like an irritable tone. "Fine, fine, I'm coming." He pushed himself forward climbing the remainder of stairs. It seemed to him the stair was the height of the entire castle. At the top he saw a small hallway that led to a door scarcely as tall as he was, Mrs. Norris was sitting in front of it.

"Is this it?" he asked. Mrs. Norris meowed. Matt opened the door to find himself staring into a sea of candles burning bright as snow fell around them, and there, standing just before it, only a meter in front of him and leaning over a ballistraude that appeared to flicker in and out of existence was the bent form of Filch. Mrs. Norris trotted up to her master and rubbed against his legs, purring.

"Well, hello my dear one. How did you get in?" Filch leaned over and stroked her head with one hand, the other appearing to be occupied with a giant hook. Mrs. Norris turned toward Matt and meowed. Filch turned to see Matt.

"I'm sorry," Matt said. "She- I mean, I was looking for you to um give you - here." He held out the package with the flying snitches still traveling across in their diagonal lines.

"Oh ho! What is this? For me?" Filch took it.

"I'm sorry, it's not very good," he apologized as Filch removed the little wooden carving from the wrapping paper.

"I'd say it is. It's Nelly, ain' it?" he said, turning the little wooden tabby cat around in his hands. "You made this yourself?"

"During Divination."

Filch snorted. "Probably the most useful thing to come from that class." Matt chuckled slightly. "Well, come on, boy. Take a look." Filch waved him forward. "There's not many at Hogwarts who have ever had this view. Even those Weasley twins could find this place. Thank heaven for small mercies."

Matt stepped forward and the sight he beheld left him speechless. It was the Great Hall! They were almost on the very ceiling looking down on what appeared to be a wonderland of evergreens and brilliant baubles. Hagrid was at the bottom near the entryway, negotiating the placement of a fir tree that had to be at least ten meters tall while Prof. Flitwick waved his wand and decorations sprang onto another tree. Matt could now see the hook Filch was holding held a giant wreath with long strings of fir tree garlands hanging from it. They traveled along the wall to the very back entrance.

"Jus' puttin' the last touches on it for Christmas."

"It's beautiful," Matt breathed.

"Best one we've ever done, if yeh ask me," Filch said proudly. "Hang on a moment while I get this hung up. Then we can have some tea." Matt nodded and watched as Filch secured the giant hook to the thick stone railing. "Alright, let's go."

"You know, this is pretty good. Is it your first time carving?" Filch asked as they made their way back down the halls.

"Yeah."

"You should keep at it. You've got some real talent."

"But it's lopsided," Matt protested, embarrassed.

"So? I could tell it was a cat. You'll get better in time. Never hurts to work with your hands. Keeps your feet on the ground. Wait." Filch held out a hand to stop Matt. "I hear something."

Matt listened closely, but he couldn't hear anything. Then, just faintly he heard the faint hissing of a whisper and the shuffle of footsteps. In the light of a crossing hallway he saw the small form of a girl holding something in her hands. She appeared to be talking to it though he could not understand what she was saying. It way Holly! She walked on without noticing them.

"Poor girl," Filch said when Holly was no longer in sight. "I remember the first time I saw her. Had to be three, four years ago. It was almost midnight. I was cleanin' out by the Headmaster's office when those Carrows came in with her. She just followed them like she had no will of her own. It was like watching a lamb go to the slaughter."

"Mr. Filch, I don't mean to be rude, but that's Holly Mills, she's only a first year. It couldn't have been her. She would have only been seven if it were four years ago."

"I know what I saw. It was her. 'Cept she was wearing a white dress and her hair was longer. And they had this thing floating behind them, like a table with something on it, and it was covered by a large white sheet.

Matt shook his head. That was ridiculous. It couldn't have been Holly. What would the Carrows even want with a seven year old anyway? And why bring her into Hogwarts? Filch must have been mistaken. It was probably another student who was caught breaking curfew. He checked his watch. It was nearly ten o'clock.

"Mr. Filch, I think I had better be getting back to the common room. It's getting late."

"Oh? What time is it?" Filch looked at his watch, shook it, and held it to his ear as if to check if it were still working. "Well, I'll be damned. Guess you're right. Another time then. Merry Christmas. Thanks for the cat." The words sounded creaky, as though unused to being used by him.

"Yeah. Merry Christmas, Mr. Filch." Matt said, taking the corridor he knew led to the dorm. He was so preoccupied by what Filch had said he accidentally missed the entrance and walked into the kitchens where the house-elves refused to let him leave until his arms were so loaded with pastries and cakes that he could barely tap out the rhythm to get into the dorm.


	16. Chapter 16: The Hogwart's Ballroom

**Chapter 16: The Hogwart's Ballroom**

Christmas morning came with a silvery chill bringing with it fat flurries of snow that flew and twisted about, never seeming to properly land.

"Matt! Wake up!" Izzy shouted as she jumped onto his bed. He had not appreciated how much she had grown in the few short months since they had arrived at Hogwarts until this moment, but he could tell even without looking she was taller and heavier than Tip.

"Oof!" Matt said. "Who let you in?"

"Your password is tapping on a barrel, it's not hard." Izzy rolled her eyes. "Now get up. It's Christmas!"

Matt didn't need to be told twice, he threw off his quilt and jumped out of bed to find Phichit and Shoshanna waiting eagerly at the door.

"This one is for Matt and Shoshanna," Bridget said, holding up a card as Holly watched quietly. Shoshanna got to it first and slit the envelope open with a quick flick of her wand, liberating the card within.

"Look, it's from Donnie," she said, showing the card to Matt. A black and yellow explosion of smiling freckle-faced blonds all waving at the camera with the sparkling letters _Merry Christmas from the Macmillan Clan_ shimmering from the center of the group. Matt could see Donnie in a new black and yellow scarf waving with one hand and holding a small girl with blond pigtails in his arm. She was holding a stuffed badger out and beaming. "That's his cousin, Marita. And that's Ernie Macmillan there." Shoshanna pointed two Macmillan's over to a stout, blond young man. "He was a member of Dumbledore's Army and a friend of Harry Potter."

"Donnie's cousin," Matt recalled. "He fought in the Battle of Hogwarts."

"This one is for Phichit." Bridget held up a thin box wrapped in brilliant gold wrapping paper bursting with orange, red, and silver flowers and topped with a bow as big as a cabbage. Phichit rushed over to open it, and for all his enthusiasm Matt had expected he would tear the paper to shreds and was surprised to see him expertly unbind the tape, fold the paper and put it aside.

"Chocolates!" Phichit shouted, holding up the box of expertly molded chocolates: Christmas trees, presents, baubles, candy canes, and, at the center, a large chocolate Santa riding on a broomstick with a sack of gifts upon his back.

"This one is for Matt," Bridget sent a letter floating to him with the wave of her wand. "And this one is for Izzy."

Izzy jumped up and grabbed the package out of the air, proceeding to tear the paper to ribbons, while Matt looked at his card. It was addressed from Liam McLaggen. He tore it open a pulled out a card, the front of which was almost entirely devoured by the seal of Gryffindor. Red and gold letters announced: Merry Christmas from Clan McLaggen! Something slid from the card to the floor. Matt picked it up. It was a photo of Liam smiling smugly from a makeshift throne, a cheap crown upon his head and scepter in his hand. He was resting his feet on the back of rather large, disgruntled looking young man while a sour faced young woman stood behind him holding a platter of chocolate frogs - Matt guessed these were his cousins. Draped behind him was a banner which read _All Hail the King of Quidditch_. Matt smirked and opened the card, reading, _Hey Matt, guess what, I won! All hail the king! Doesn't my cousin Cliff look funny? Don't feel bad for him though, he got me good with a bludger. See my black eye?_ Matt looked again at the photo and sure enough, there was a dark circle under Liam's eye. _Tell that Carrow girl I'm coming for her next year. Merry Christmas! PS: Thanks for the fizzing whizbangs! PPS: Neville says hi_

Neville says hi. Neville Longbottom who stood up to Voldemort with nothing more than his words - Neville Longbottom who led Dumbledore's Army and was judged as worthy to wield the sword of Gryffindor - says hi! Neville Longbottom knew who he was!

"All mum and dad got me was a cat statue," Izzy pouted as she held up the white stone statue of a rather attractive cat with two large, blank orbs for eyes, giving it a rather creepy look.

"It's probably cursed," Matt said.

Izzy's face brightened. "Do you really think so?" She dove into the pile of gifts and rifled through it, pulling out a package that was obviously a book. "Let's see what mum and dad got you."

"I'm guessing it's a book," Matt said, holding the heavy object on top of his letter.

"Yes, but what kind of book?" Izzy insisted.

"Yeah, what book is it?" Shoshanna, her hair now loosely tied back with a dun brown head scarf decorated with pale flowers at the front, plopped down next to him and grabbed the package from his hands, he pulled it back. "Come on Matt, open it."

"Yeah, Matt." Bridget had abandoned her post of handing out gifts and was kneeling over the package. Only Phichit was otherwise occupied, watching the large chocolate Santa that was the centerpiece of his gift, fly around on a broomstick dropping miniature chocolate gifts from his sack.

"Ok." Matt tore open the wrapping paper revealing a thick, gorgeous book. The glossy front cover had four different types of runes on the front, each awash with their own color: Hieroglyphics were in sandy yellow, Suomi was in blue, Celtic was in green, and Babylonian was in red. The title, written in gold read: _Deciphering the Ancients: an Intermediate Guide to Egyptian, Finnish, Irish, and Middle Eastern Ruins_. Matt opened the book to a random page and ran his fingers over the silky smooth paper.

"Wow! Look at this!" Shoshanna pulled the book from Matt's grasp. "I've never seen this translation before for this statue!"

Matt gripped the cover side of the book and looked at what Shoshanna was staring at. "It says underneath it's a new interpretation by Bartleyby Faustus."

"It makes more sense; it agrees better with the accounts from the Prophets. But try getting one of those old fogies in ruin translation to actually apply what they read for once. All they do is spend hours discussing whether it's an 'and' or a 'or'."

"Syntax is very important, Shoshanna," Bridget said, gently pulling the book from them, she flipped over to the section headed by a bar of forest green. She pointed to a stone tablet on the page, running her fingers under the symbols as she read. "See here where it tells of the each-uisace and the kelpie. If it said or, you might think them the same creature with different names for the male and female form and then believe that simply capturing the bridle, which works to control the kelpie might also work for the each-uisace. But, one who is pure of heart and of noble blood may convince the each-uisace of Lough Hyne to take them to the lost island," she read with increasing speed. "It says here no one can get to the island except on the back of the each-uisace. He appears in Knockomagh wood to tend his flock when the full moon is at its peak. Do you know what this means?" Bridget looked up excitedly to see Matt and Shoshanna staring at her wide-eyed. Phichit and Izzy were not not paying any attention, instead they were watching his chocolate Santa fly around above their heads on his broomstick dropping miniature chocolate gifts into their waiting hands.

"No... we don't," Shoshanna said. "The caption says that tablet was written in an unknown dialect and hasn't been able to be translated."

"Oh... I've been doing some extra work with Professor Babbling on Irish runes... it's a secret project. She's really brilliant. She's hoping to publish on her findings soon."

"Why do she choose you?" Matt could feel the fire of Shoshanna's envy even from where he stood. Everyone knew she was Prof. Babbling's star pupil and clear favorite. She had exceeded even Hermione's Granger's marks.

Bridget searched for an explanation. "The village where I'm from has an dialect that is still practiced that draws its basis from this rune language."

"Like the Coptic language helped to decipher Egyptian," Matt added helpfully.

"Yes, like that." Bridget looked relieved to have anything solid to grasp onto.

Shoshanna's eyes narrowed. "Where are you from again?"

"Oh just some little island, you've probably never heard of it."

"Try me."

"Hey, look, this is a present for Holly!" Matt said. He handed the red wrapped present to Holly who smiled excitedly as she tore open the paper revealing a pair of light blue thick woolen socks with snowy white unicorns running majestically across the cuff.

She hugged them to her thin chest. "Thank you!" she said, her voice soft. Having a good look at her, Matt wondered when she had last eaten. She had always been thin, but now her figure was positively wan, her joints jutting from her pale skin.

"Don't thank me, thank my mum. When I told her about my friends she wanted to get you all something. I suppose Donnie's badger socks will have to wait." He carefully pocketed a pair of socks that were for his fictional friend Roberta. Ceelee would probably kill him for making up that name, as if her own weren't bad enough she would say between firing curses at him Squib or not, but, as much as he loved his parents, he doubted even they could overlook her family name.

"Badger socks?" Shoshanna said. "Yeah, he'll love that. McMillans' bleed black and gold. I swear, that's not a lion on the McMillan coat of arms, it's a badger."

"Here's yours," Matt tossed a pair to Shoshanna. She opened them revealing dark blue wool socks with slowly rotating stars of David on them. "Happy Hanukkah."

"Well, you're a bit late but as socks are a traditional Hanukkah gift i'll forgive you this time," Shoshanna smirked as she pulled them on. "Cool. And they don't even itch like bubbe's."

"Who?" Phichit asked, clearly hoping for his own pair.

"Grandma," Matt and Shoshanna said together and laughed.

* * *

They passed a pleasant afternoon eating sweets from the kitchen and enjoying their new presents. Come late afternoon they found themselves lounging around on the common room chairs with not much to do.

"Hey, I've got an idea," Phichit said, sliding down from a chair he was sitting upside down on. "Ow!" he said rubbing his head as he righted himself.

"What is it?" Izzy asked. The others turned their heads with some interest. Another mad adventure no doubt.

"Yeah. You remember the stories of Harry Potter's first year, right? About the Philosopher's stone?"

"Yeah, and how he defeated Lord Voldemort?" Izzy said excitedly.

"Yeah. You remember how they always talk about that secret door that was guarded by the three headed dog that led to all those challenges like the Devil's Snare and the giant chessboard and everything?"

"Yeah," Matt nodded slowly.

"Do you think it's still there?"

"You can't possibly be thinking to got there?!" Shoshanna was incredulous.

"Why not? We're an adventurer's club right? It's an adventure right?"

"It's completely mental!"

"Oh come on, you can't tell me you're not curious. Besides, it's not like we'll have to go through the challenges, I mean, they've already been beaten ages ago. Probably."

"Probably."

"Don't you want to see where it all happened?"

Izzy was positively jumping on the bed with excitement. "Come on, guys! Where Harry Potter faced Voldemort."

"We can go to the Great Hall for that," Shoshanna said.

"Yeah, but this is where he did it the first time."

"That would be Godric's Hollow," Matt interjected. Izzy shot him a withering look. "I'm just saying."

"You know what I mean."

"Don't you want to see the potion's riddle? I'll bet it's still down there."

"Well..." Shoshanna's resolve was crumbling.

"It would be an adventure..." Bridget ventured.

"We might need your help, you are the best at spells," Matt said. Even he had to admit he wanted to see the giant chessboard - though hopefully it wouldn't spring to life. He was fairly good at chess but probably not good enough to protect this many people. They'd make up the better part of the back row. He knew who he'd make the queen though; but Izzy would probably insist on the position herself.

The compliment seemed to work. "Fine, I'll go."

"Thanks Shosh!" Phichit said.

"It's only to keep you all from killing yourselves."

"Of course it is," Matt said with a smile. He could tell now that she had agreed to it she was just as excited as they were.

"We'll meet an hour after breakfast tomorrow, then. Right outside the library."

"Ok." They all agreed.

* * *

The Great Hall was, if possible, even more breathtaking than it had been when Matt had seen it yesterday. Candles hung in the air as snowflakes drifted down from the ceiling, melting into nothingness halfway down. So many trees lined the Great Hall it almost looked like a forest covered in sparkling baubles and silver and gold garlands. In the center of the hall was a single large table. Already the half closest to the main doors was filled with Slytherins. The teachers had seated themselves in the middle, effectively separating the Slytherins from the other students. Apparently there had been issues before. Ceelee was seated next to Hagrid with McGonagal watching her from the center of the table. Definitely issues before, Matt thought to himself. Though Ceelee seemed quite content to listen to Hagrid and Rolf Scamander discuss the last letter from Newt Scamander regarding the reintroduction of the Calygreyhounds to the Oxford wilds.

As Matt passed by he dropped the pair of socks under Ceelee's chair. "Hey Carrow, you dropped something," he said in as rude a tone as he could muster.

Ceelee looked to where he was pointing and picked up the socks. They were forest green with a single golden snitch that flitted all about between them. A card fell out from in-between the socks. Ceelee picked it up, a smile she could not wholly conceal spread across her face as she watched Ginny Weasley flying across the front in her Holyhead Harpies uniform. It was her latest Quidditch card, not even out to the public yet, but Mr. Boot played gobstones with one of the men in production on Saturdays. She turned it over. On the back Ginny held her broom in one hand and waved with the other as her stats shined from beside her. Ceelee visibly fought her smile down. "What are you looking at my chair for, Squib?" she said, stuffing the items in her robe pocket.

Matt ate until his stomach felt as though it were bursting of the glorious supper and then was almost dismayed when the pudding appeared with a myriad of desserts piled high in golden bowls and on golden plates. He could see his eating companions looking equally conflicted by the fantastic meal. Only Hagrid and Darius Flint seemed to still be able to eat with the same gusto they had attacked the feast. Somehow Matt managed to put away an eclair and two cream puffs as well. No sense disappointing the House Elves, he thought, even though he knew it had nothing to do with the House Elves at all.

* * *

Matt was thankful they had agreed to meet an hour after breakfast; he wasn't sure he could have waddled his way up to the library any time before that with much of the feast still heavy n his stomach and waffles on top of that. The weather was in sympathy with their plan as sheets of sleet buffeted the castle making even the suggestion of anything other than staying inside seem mad. Matt and Shoshanna were already almost ten minutes late, having lost themselves in his new ruins book until a light "ahem" from the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff caused them to look up and notice the time.

As he and Shoshanna approached he could see Bridget and Holly were already waiting. Bridget was holding Holly's hand, something Matt was glad to see. He hated to think he was her only true friend.

"Have you seen Izzy and Phichit?" Bridget asked. "I thought they might be with you."

"No. We haven't seen them," Matt said.

"Do you think they might have gone on without us? We were a few minutes late."

"That'd be stupid of them," Shoshanna said.

"Do you think we should check?" Bridget said.

"Well, they could just be running late," Matt posited. "I mean, afterall, we only just got here ourselves." As if on cue Izzy came pelting down the hall. "See? Hey Izzy, where's Phichit?" Matt called, making a megaphone with his hands.

Izzy didn't even bother to try to stop, instead choosing to crash into her brother, causing the both of them to topple over. "Phichit... can't come..."

"Can't come?! He's the one who came up with this crazy idea!" Shoshanna said.

"Why can't he come?" Matt asked, struggling to disentangle himself from his sister.

"He probably ate too much and made himself sick."

"Always the ray of sunshine, Shoshanna," a voice from behind Bridget said, causing most of them to jump. All eyes turned to the speaker. "He's in the infirmary if you must know. Picked a fight with Darius Flint."

"What are you doing here, Carrow?" Izzy's eyes narrowed. She attempted to reach for her wand but Matt intentionally shifted, causing her to have to catch herself instead.

Ceelee tossed an apple up in the air, caught it, and took a bite from it, waiting until it was fully chewed and swallowed before answering. "I could ask you the same question. What are you lot doing here?"

"None of your business," Izzy said.

"Tough girl," Ceelee said mockingly, not even making the slightest motion to her wand, instead taking another bite of her apple. "I'm so scared." Her words were muffled by her chewing.

Izzy had managed to right herself and pulled out her wand. Ceelee didn't even flinch. "You probably told Flint to go after Phichit."

"Now why would I do something like that? Serves him right, anyway, insulting Flint's dead mum like that."

"Oh." Izzy's wand dropped some, before rising again with renewed vigor. "Well you should have stopped him!"

"After he said Flint's mum was a troll? There's no way I was getting in the middle of that. He may be slow with his wand, but his fists are another story."

"Well what did Flint say to him first?"

"Nothing. He just bumped into him."

"And you expect me to believe that?"

"Yeah I do."

Matt stepped inbetween them. "Guys, guys stop fighting."

"I can't believe you'd take this Slytherin's side over your own sister," Izzy pouted.

"I'm not taking anyone's side. But you know if you have a row outside the library Madam Pince will come out and stop it and Filch won't be far behind."

Izzy immediately shut up at the mention of Filch.

"So now then, why don't you answer my question? What are you doing?" Ceelee took another bite of her apple.

"What are we doing?" Bridget whispered to the others.

"We can't go without Phichit," Izzy insisted. "It was his idea."

"I wasn't especially crazy about the idea to begin with," Shoshanna said.

"Maybe we should do something else, I mean, if it hasn't been blocked off by now another few days won't hurt," Matt said.

"But what else can we do?" Bridget asked.

"Puzzle?" Holly suggested timidly.

"Now there's an idea," Matt said, instantly eager to see how far they could get today.

"It is the perfect day for it," Shoshanna agreed. "There's nothing else better to do."

"And we would have plenty of time," Bridget added.

"I'd like to see if I can finish that border," Matt added.

"A puzzle!?" Izzy whined. " But a puzzle is so boring!" She stamped her foot, crossing her arms and sticking out her lower lip.

"Do you have a better suggestion?" Shoshanna asked.

"Yeah. Anything."

"Come on, it won't be that bad," Matt said, patting her shoulder. She jerked it away.

"Yeah right."

"Aww, is the poor little Gryffindor afraid of a little puzzle," Ceelee taunted.

"I'm afraid of dying of boredom. Besides I don't see you rushing up there."

"Only because you all are taking so long. A witch could die of old age listening to you lot." She tapped her want to her apple core, causing it to levitate and burst into flames. A small trickle of ash left a miniature mound on the floor. Ceelee swept it over with her shoe. "Now, are we going?"

Izzy's eyes grew wide, she shook her head. "Oh no. You aren't going with us."

"Why not? After you were so kind as to invite me along?"

"I didn't invite you. Matt, tell her."

"I don't know, it did sound like you suggested she come," Matt said, secretly hoping that perhaps this was the olive branch he had been hoping for to bring Ceelee in.

Shoshanna grabbed Matt's elbow, pulling him aside. "You can't be serious," she whispered urgently. "I know we're Hufflepuffs and all but Ceelee Carrow?"

Bridget looked at Matt pensively, only Holly seemed unbothered by this turn of events. Probably because she was too pre-occupied watching the unicorns run around her ankles. Matt took a deep breath and plastered a smile on his face. "The more the merrier! Let's go." His pronouncement was met by undisguised groans from Izzy and Shoshanna.

Ceelee smirked. "Lead the way."

* * *

"I've got this part done," Ceelee said, pushing over a long piece of border to Matt's side.

"Looks like we're still missing some connecting pieces," Matt said, turning within the circle of puzzle border chunks around him.

"Here!" Izzy popped a small band of edge pieces into the gap.

"That looks like... Yes. It fits!" Matt said.

"Yeah!" Ceelee and Izzy high-fived and then immediately realized what they had done and backed off, back to their respective areas littered with pieces. A few meters away Bridget, Holly, and Shoshanna were piecing together little H's.

Matt's stomach grumbled. How long had it been since they had eaten last? He had been so preoccupied with the puzzle he had lost all sense of time. He went to check his watch and realized, in the hurry to get to the meeting place on time, he had left it on his end table. "Hey, Shoshanna. What time is- Woah, Holly! That's amazing!"

The other's turned from their work to where Holly was working quietly. They each had a respectable set of completed chunks, but Holly completed what appeared to be a large portion of the interior. They all gathered around to admire her work.

"Wow! How did you do that so fast?" Izzy asked. Holly just smiled her snaggle-toothed grin.

"Hey, I think we can fit the border over here," Ceelee said, pointing to a protruding peninsular part of Holly's island. They slowly pushed the large semi-circular piece of border over in three chunks, reconnecting it once they got it to the main portion. "There, you see."

"Good eyes," Matt said.

"Well, of course they're good. I wouldn't be much of a seeker if they weren't," she replied haughtily. Matt heard her stomach ruble, as did the others who all looked from the puzzle to her.

"Oh yeah, I was asking what time it was," Matt said. "I'm getting hungry."

"It's..." Bridget glanced at her watch, then balked, pulling it closer to make certain she had read it correctly. "It's half past three!"

"Oh, it's over an hour before supper!" Izzy whined.

"I'll get us something from the kitchens," Ceelee volunteered.

"No, me!" Izzy said. "I've always wanted to go to the kitchens." Matt could see the visions of sweets dancing before her shining eyes.

"It had better be me. Do you know what a bunch of Slytherins would do to you if they caught you walking the halls alone?"

"I can take care of myself," Izzy said, crossing her arms.

"Sure you can," Ceelee rolled her eyes.

"Come on Matt, tell her I can get them."

"Why are you asking me for? It's not like I'm the group leader or anything. I'm not even the oldest." He glanced around at the others who returned his look with shy glances of their own.

"Well, you are the most level-headed..." Shoshanna ventured.

"And the most knowledgeable," Bridget said.

"And you're the only one we are all friends with," Ceelee added. "Plus you're the only one this brat'll listen to." She pointed at Izzy who stuck her tongue out in return.

"What about Phichit?" he asked. "I mean we're always doing his crazy plans."

"I mean yeah, but only because you are," Shoshanna said. "I mean, Phichit does have some interesting ideas, but I wouldn't follow him to lunch. I trust you."

His stomach grumbled. "Speaking of lunch. Alright, Ceelee, see what you can get us."

"Carrow!" Izzy whined. "Over your own sister?! She probably won't come back and will leave us to starve just to be mean!"

"I'd leave you to starve," Ceelee said.

"Enough. Ceelee knows the school better and she's right, the Slytherins won't hassle her. Plus she can hold more food."

"Traitor." Izzy said.

Matt shot her a sidewise glance. "Would you like to explain to Filch where you got all that food between meals?" Izzy's eyes grew wide and she sucked her lips in. "Yeah, I thought so."

"See you guys in a few," Ceelee said, leaving the room.

They went back to the puzzle, all trying to fit their finished portions to Holly's. Matt couldn't help but find himself somewhat distracted. Him the leader? They hadn't been following Phichit, but him? He hadn't even noticed, hadn't considered it even a possibility - how could he think to notice something that was so inconceivable? He didn't even have magic. How could they want to follow him? But maybe that was part of the appeal. Something couldn't be too dangerous or too crazy if even someone with magical powers would attempt it, he told himself. That had to be it. They were a mostly sensible lot, afterall.

Ceelee came back with an armful of sandwiches and pastries, though she did pretend to have forgotten Izzy's causing Izzy to nearly break down in tears before Matt gave Ceelee a warning look and she produced a sandwich and a cupcake for Izzy. They ate as they worked, discarded sandwich wrappers littering the floor behind them. Time passed all the quicker now as it seemed the end was in sight. Matt was glad to see Ceelee and the others working together almost as if they were friends. He knew, of course, that they weren't and that when the puzzle was done things would return to how they had been, but maybe they would be less prejudiced against the Slytherin. He could only hope. He secretly longed for the day he could openly be friends with Ceelee. The day she could openly be friends with anyone, really. The Adventurer's Club just didn't seem as much fun when she wasn't in it, like it was missing something only he could perceive. Well, her and Liam. But he had to keep his thoughts realistic. Those two were worse off than ever.

"This is it," Shoshanna said, holding up a tiny sliver of silver and gold. "The last piece."

"Well don't just sit there, put it in," Ceelee said. Shoshanna just sat still, not moving. "What are you waiting for? Are you afraid of it or something?"

A line creased Shoshanna's brow just at the bridge of her nose. "Actually... I mean, I don't know what will happen when I put this in. The founders created this room and it only appeared after the school was under attack. What if it's dangerous?"

"Like a weapon?" Izzy asked eagerly.

"Well, it might be defensive, like a shield enchantment," Bridget suggested, "it is circular."

"Maybe we should have a teacher come, just in case..." Shoshanna said.

"Oh for Hecate's sake!" Ceelee grabbed the puzzle piece. "There." she said, putting it into place. "See?"

The word had scarcely left her mouth before bright lines of light began coursing through the lines between the pieces.

"Woah," Matt said.

"We should have gotten a teacher," Shoshanna said.

Ceelee hardly had time to jump back as the puzzle shook and began to move, the lines now fusing. The disc slowly rose from the ground, light bursting forth from it. And then suddenly, the light ceased and it fell to the floor. They gathered around it, staring in silence.

"Well, that was weird," Izzy said.

"I don't remember it being that small," Shoshanna said. True enough, it had shrunk significantly to the size of a manhole cover. "Has it changed materials?"

Matt squatted down next to it, reaching out to touch the shining surface. It did, indeed, appear to have changed from its puzzle material into something more substantial, not unlike porcelain.

"Don't!" Izzy cried out. "It could be dangerous."

"I don't think it is," Matt said. "If it were dangerous it probably would have done something."

"It could be a portkey. I've never seen one made but maybe that's what it looks like," Shoshanna said.

"Why would the founders have made a portkey? Where could it go?" Matt asked.

"What if it wasn't the founders who put it here?" Bridget said, her face pale.

"What do you mean?"

"What if it was..." Bridget hesitated before whispering the next word. "Voldemort? What if he set it up as a trap?"

Matt's thoughts immediately turned to the famous final task of the Goblet of Fire when Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory had touched the Goblet at the same time and been transported to the graveyard where Cedric was murdered. He could tell the others were thinking the same.

"Maybe it takes you to a place where his followers could kill you," Shoshanna said.

"And how would they even know to come? I mean, it's been years." Matt asked.

"Maybe it has a charm to set of their marks."

"Or it could have been set up as an escape plan," Bridget suggested. "To Malfoy Manor or some other place."

"Some escape plan if it took three years to finish," Matt said.

"Maybe they had a particular spell to put it back together. One only they would know."

"Voldemort's dead." Ceelee said, finally.

"He was dead before and he was brought back," Holly spoke up. All eyes turned to her. She suddenly looked shy. Peering at her shoes she said, "It could happen again."

"No it couldn't." Ceelee said.

"What if they missed a horcrux?" Izzy said, a slight tremor in her voice.

"They didn't. He's dead. Look, I'll prove it's not a portkey," Ceelee said as she reached for the disc.

"No!" Matt grabbed her. She gave him a look as if she might hex him into oblivion. Realizing what he had done he released her. "Together," he said. "All of us." He looked to the others. "If it is a trap it'll be hard for them to take on all of us with as few of them as there are." He looked to the others, they slowly nodded. "Alright then, on three. One... two... Holly!"

Holly's hand shot out, touching the disc. Nothing happened. She looked up. Everyone seemed to let out a sigh of relief. "I just didn't want anyone else to get hurt," she said, innocently.

Matt couldn't help but hug her. "No one's getting hurt. Not today."

Bridget ran her fingers over the surface, no longer afraid of what it might do. "It's like marble."

"So what is it, then?" asked Izzy. She appeared almost insulted that it hadn't been a portkey.

"Dunno, maybe the bag has a clue," Matt suggested.

Shoshanna, who was closest to the bag opened it and produced a piece of parchment. "You can open many doors if you only have the key." she read.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Izzy said. "Is it a key?"

"It's be a very strange key," Bridget said.

Shoshanna turned the piece of parchment over and back again.

"What is it?" Matt asked.

"I know I've read this a dozen times," Shoshanna said, "but that's not what it says... well, said."

"What did it say?"

"I don't remember. Something about bringing lights in the darkness for those who seek but to beware."

"Beware of what?"

"Just that the children of Bellerophon, Orpheus, and Perseus should beware."

"Who are Bellerophon, Orpheus, and Perseus?" Bridget asked. "I mean, I know there's an Orpheus in the third year."

"I know probably at least half a dozen Perseus's," Ceelee said. "On account of Perseus Parkinson who tried to ban muggle-wizard marriage."

"Well, I could see Parkinsons being cursed." Izzy said. Matt shot her a look. "They are part of the sacred twenty eight."

"I think they paid for that spot. There's no way the Parkinson family is that old." Shoshanna said.

"There's a Bellerophon on the Caerphilly Catapults," Ceelee suggested.

"It would help if they were less common names," Shoshanna groused.

Matt thought for a few moments. The names had to mean something, something ancient enough that the founders would know them. But as much as he wracked his brain he could not think of any time in history he had heard the three names together. Maybe it was something to do with the names themselves. That was it! "They're characters from Greek myths, Bellerophon was a great hero who thought he should be a god and was struck down for his pride when he tried to fly to Mount Olympus and I think Orpheus tried to bring his wife back from the dead, but he was told not to look back while she followed him out but just as they were about to reach the exit he did and so she remained dead, and Perseus killed Medusa," Matt answered.

"How do you even know all of this?" Shoshanna said.

"They taught it in muggle school."

"Well score one point for muggle school then. But what does it mean?"

"Who knows?" Matt shrugged. "I mean Persues and Bellerophon were both famous heroes but what Orpheus has to do with them..." he shrugged again.

"Was he a warrior too?" Holly asked.

"No. I think he was a musician."

"That's sort of like the opposite of a warrior," Ceelee snarked.

Shoshanna picked up the disc in both hands, holding it up to her eye level. "Well that doesn't really tell us anything about this." She went to put it down.

"Wait!" Bridget said.

"What? What is it?" Shoshanna peered from around the disc.

"I know that view."

"What?"

"On the back."

"There's nothing on the back. The backs of the pieces were just plain white." Shoshanna turned the disc over as if to reassure herself. "Woah," she said. She was not staring at a plain white circle as she expected but a strange, dark, undulating pattern. "What is that?"

"It's the cavern, below the school. The one the boats float into with the first years at the beginning of term," Bridget said.

Shoshanna turned the disc this way and that squinting at it. "How are you seeing that? It looks nothing like the cavern."

"It's the view from underwater," Bridget said. Shoshanna regarded her incredulously. "I umm... I fell in, my first year."

"You pulled a Dennis Creevey?" Ceelee said, half incredulous.

"Well, it wasn't my fault. The boat struck a rock." If he hadn't known Bridget's secret, Matt might have believed her himself. She was almost shockingly convincing. It was a good lie, too. No one here was old enough to have been at the beginning of term supper to say she hadn't.

"Maybe, we should put it in the water in the cavern," Matt suggested. "Wait, what time is it?"

"It's seven," Shoshanna answered.

"Good, there's still a few hours before curfew."

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ceelee said. "Let's go."

* * *

They had very little trouble sneaking the disc down to the great hall though they were stalled a moment on the door to the small room of to the side where Matt could still remember coming in from in his first year, but Ceelee made quick work of the lock with a quick flick of her wand and an "Alohamora." Likely they didn't see much need for more security on a lock which only led to an empty room and, beyond, an underground lagoon. They had the giant squid and the merfolk to defend against intruders on the lake. Within fifteen minutes they were standing on the edge of the bank, watching the dark water lap the shore.

"So do we just float it on the water?" Shoshanna asked.

"Maybe we toss it in," Izzy suggested.

"Yeah, but if it doesn't work then it'll be at the bottom of the lake," Ceelee snarked.

"Let's just lay it on the surface and see what happens," Matt said. Shoshanna place it on the surface of the water and almost instantly jumped backward as the disc began to expand. As it grew bright lights lit up the area it was passing under. What had appeared to be stalactites with strands of moss and cobwebs strung between them instead revealed themselves to be great chandeliers of millions of crystals with strands of bright lights hanging between them. When touched by the ever expanding disc great sconces with golden arms sculpted in the shape of lions, eagles, badgers, and snakes burst into flame, revealing a door between each pair. In moments the entire surface of the cavern lake was filled by the great marble floor with its large multicolored tiles with black H's in the center. Music wafted through the air, played by unseen instruments, in some sort of waltz.

"What is this place?" Ceelee breathed, staring up at the lights in wonder.

"Ceelee! Be careful!" Matt warned.

"What?" She looked down at her feet to realize she had stepped out onto the marble floor. She stomped on it twice. "Seems safe enough."

"It looks like some sort of ballroom, but I've never heard of one in Hogwarts before," Bridget said. "Unless... There was a picture in _Hogwarts: A History_. It was labeled as being a depiction of the first Yule Ball in the Great Hall which would have been in the 1300's but if it were mislabeled... I knew there was something wrong with their dress robes! I wish I had that book now."

"Why not summon it?" Izzy suggested. " _Accio_ book!" she mimed.

"We don't want anyone to know we're down here," Bridget said.

Matt nodded, "Somehow I think a random book whizzing through the halls might attract some attention."

"Oh." Izzy said.

"Well, are you guys going to just stand there all day and talk?" Ceelee said, taking a few steps further out. "Come on, let's see what's behind these doors."

"Yeah!" Izzy said, running out after her.

"Wait! We don't even know if it's safe!" Matt protested.

"Safer than being talked to death," Ceelee said with a derisive sniff. Izzy laughed. "Besides, if it's as old as she says then anything dangerous should be long rusted out or dead."

"Unless it's a basilisk," Matt suggested. Izzy stopped dead, turning to face Matt with her white little face.

"Could there be a basilisk?" she asked nervously.

"He's just trying to scare you," Ceelee said.

"I am not," Matt said. "It's a real risk, who knows what could be lurking."

"In a ballroom?" Ceelee rolled her eyes.

"Fine, but just wait for us." Matt gingerly stepped onto the floor. It seemed solid enough. No one would ever guess it was floating on the surface of the lake. "Come on, guys." Holly merrily hopped onto the ballroom floor with Bridget and Shoshanna following behind.

"Shoshanna! The parchment!" Matt yelled, pointing at the piece of parchment in Shoshanna's hand that had begun to emit golden sparks.

Shoshanna yelped, dropping the parchment on the floor where golden sparks appeared to write words upon its surface. "Multuminparvo," she read as the word appeared.

"What does that mean?" Izzy said.

"It looks like a spell," Matt said.

Izzy rolled her eyes. "Well I know it's a spell, but what does it do?"

"I don't know, I think it's in Latin."

"You don't know Latin?"

"No, why would I?"

Izzy let out a frustrated "Ugh!"

"Multum in parvo," Holly said. "Much in little."

"What?" Matt turned to her.

"It means much in little."

"How do you know that?" Matt asked almost as shocked as he was incredulous. "Do you know Latin?"

"No, but Artemis does." she said as though it were the most obvious thing.

"The rat speaks Latin now," Shoshanna whispered to Matt. Matt knew Shoshanna disapproved of Holly's pet. She had spoken many times, at length, of how unhealthy her attachment to the comatose white mouse was, even going so far as to show him chapters from books on the subject. Matt was inclined to agree that it was distressing that she would choose to hide her own personal abilities by crediting them to a creature which couldn't possibly do what she claimed - it could barely even eat let alone speak Latin - but he could not help but excuse it as a result of what must have been a very sad upbringing. Afterall, even if it was costing her friends, she was happy. Or at least, she had been up until the past few months.

"Lay off it," he whispered back.

"So what do you think it does?" Ceelee said. "It better not be another riddle."

"I don't think any of the clues have been riddles," Matt began, "I think they are literal. The first was about lights in the darkness and the second said that you can open many doors if you only have the key."

"So do you think this is the key they meant?" Ceelee said. She took out her wand and aimed it at the nearest door. "Multumin-"

"Wait!" Matt pulled down her arm.

"What now?"

"What if it's a spell to reduce the floor?"

"To reduce the floor?"

"Well think about it. It was 'much in little', I mean a whole ballroom floor in a disc I could carry in one hand. And if I already knew about the ballroom and the doors, the only thing I would need to remember was-"

"The spell to return it to it's smaller size," Ceelee finished.

"If they didn't use it often, either because they didn't use the room much or they rarely took it up, they might forget," Bridget said.

"But how do we get into the doors?" Shoshanna asked.

Ceelee smirked, walked over, and turned the knob. The door opened revealing a room far larger than was possible without an extending spell which looked to be some form of performing parlour. A number of musical instruments of every type Matt could name (and some he had never before seen) sat on one side of the room surrounding a grand piano while plush chairs and couches sat in lines as though watching an invisible concert. The others gasped in admiration. "We could try the knob," she said.

"Cool!" Izzy said. "Let's see what's behind this one!" She yanked open the door and was instantly buried in books from a bookshelf that hung on the other side and did not seem to care for her rough handling.

"I think that's the library," Matt laughed as his sister shook books off of her head.

"I didn't know Hogwarts had a second library," Bridget said, picking up some of the books and reading their titles. "Why these books must be at least four hundred years old."

"It's a book on the spells of the Atlanteans!" Shoshanna exclaimed. "As told to the author by the Peryton Calix before it ate him. Notes translated to English by Phineas Burke. I wonder if he's related to Borgin & Burke's?"

"Probably," Ceelee said, putting aside a book on making a druidic staff and picking up one that had a picture of a man in ancient looking robes riding a broom and reaching for a flying golden ball. She flipped through it, "Look, it's the Galway Garrote! No wonder it hasn't worked in a hundred years, there's supposed to be a fourth man."

"Boring!" Izzy said. "I'm going to go find another door."

"Wait! Matt cried, chasing after her.

They spent the next hour opening doors. One room was filled with large couches and chairs with a large golden coffee urn in the center that had eight spigots for dispensing coffee and great golden trays clearly meant for snacks (their absence was lamented by Izzy). Another room had three dueling strips in the center of a large room with walls cloaked in scarlet and gold tapestries on one side and silver and green on the other There were a number of scorch marks on the walls and a few of the tapestries had large holes burnt in them. Much of the furniture was in pieces, even a few of the busts lay in piles of rubble. It appeared that whatever the last duel had been, it had been quite heated. Another was filled with large stuffed magical creatures that had been the subject of skillful taxidermy, while the one next to it was filled with large stuffed magical creatures that had been the subject of skillful sewing. There was a room filled with snake motifs and writing desks, looking much like some type of office. There was even a boy's room and a girl's room.

"Look here, there's a section on how to create and destroy horcruxes - that would have been useful a few years ago." Shoshanna smirked, not looking up from her Atlantean book as she walked with the others, not realizing they had stopped.

"Shoshanna, look." Matt said. They were standing in front of a door that appeared nothing like the others. It was old and knotted with the four house animals carved into it with decorative lines carved all around them, uniting at the center beneath a handprint.

"There's no knob or handle," Ceelee said, running her hands over the surface. "Not even a hidden one. _Alohamora_!" she said, pointing her wand at where a lock might be. Immediately the spell rebounded off of the door, knocking the wand from her hand. She raised an eyebrow and went to retrieve her wand.

"Well how are we supposed to get in?" Izzy groused, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Maybe we're not," Matt said. "The founders hid this place for a reason. It might very well be behind that door."

"I think I know," Ceelee said. "Bridget, come with me." Bridget looked confused but followed Ceelee to the dueling room. The others followed behind. "Stand on the other side of that dueling strip. Don't worry, I'm not going to hex you." Ceelee answered Bridget's worried look. "Wand out, like you're going to duel. Ok, now I'm going to go to the other side, see." The moment Ceelee stood on the strip and drew her wand the tapestries changed. New green and silver ones unfurled from the one side and blue and bronze from the other. "I thought so," she muttered. Bridget stood at the ready, clearly she did not trust Ceelee. "You can relax, I told you, I'm not going to duel you." Ceelee lowered her wand and looked around the room. "So this is the place."

"What place?" Bridget asked, thoroughly perplexed, her wand still raised.

"Where Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor had their final duel."

"I knew they fought, I suppose I did hear that the sorting hat had mentioned dueling," Bridget said, finally lowering her wand. "But I didn't think there was an actual place."

"It would make sense though, wouldn't it?" Ceelee said. "If there's something behind that door that they were trying to keep from him and his heir that would make it almost impossible for him to access if the ballroom were shattered and concealed until such time as the heir of Slytherin was dead."

"But why allow it to reappear at all?"

"I don't know," Ceelee said. "But we're going to get that door open and find out."

They spent the next ten minutes examining the door for any sign of a lock. "Oh it's hopeless!" Shoshanna cried. Just then a blue light lit up the Ravenclaw eagle. They all looked to where a wand was sticking into a hole between the Eagle's beak and it's throat to where Holly stood, holding it. "I thought it might fit, she said with a crooked smile."

"Here, let me have a look," Ceelee pushed toward the snake, sure enough, within its mouth was another divit shaped perfectly for a wand. She placed hers in the hole and the snake was instantly lit with a green light.

"Shoshanna, Izzy, see if you can find one for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor," Matt said. In seconds the door was lit with green, yellow, blue, and red, all trailing to the center where the handprint was.

"Do you think it needs Godric Gryffindor's hand?" Matt asked.

"Don't be stupid," Ceelee said. "He'd be holding the wand in that hand, he couldn't do both at the same time. And why even make it then if he just wanted it to die with him?"

Matt bristled. He wasn't keen on being called stupid. "Well, what else could it be?"

"Why don't you put your hand there?"

"What?" Matt looked at her, bewildered.

"Yeah. It needs a member from all four houses to open. Slytherin and Riddle would have been able to figure that out pretty quickly. But they would never think that they might need a non-magic user to open it, not in a million years. I doubt they'd even know one they could use. Try it."

"Alright," Matt rolled up his sleeve, preparing to be blasted back like Ceelee's wand. "Here goes." He placed his hand on the handprint. Suddenly a great white light came from the hand and traveled outward turning the lights from the other houses white as well until the entire door was bathed in the pale light. And then, it opened. They stared into the dark room.

" _Lumos_ ," Ceelee and Izzy said in unison. They led the way into the room which seemed to be lit by a strange pale blue aura that appeared to ripple like light cascading off water.

" _Incendio_ ," Ceelee said, lighting a torch that hung from the wall. In the light the contents of the room could now be seen more clearly. Magical artifacts littered what appeared to be some sort of workshop hewn into the stone side of the cavern.

"Matt check these out," Izzy exclaimed showing off an armful of swords.

"Izzy don't touch that!"

"But look! This one has the Deathly Hallows carved onto the hilt."

Sure enough, when Matt looked at the hilt of the large battered and chipped sword he could see the telltale line bisecting the circle and triangle of the deathly hallows.

"Do you think..." Shoshanna began. "Do you think this might have belonged to one of the Peverells?"

"I don't know," Matt said. "There are a lot of weapons here, it's quite a collection. And look over here, there's an alchemic circle, no, dozens of them."

The low loud sound of a horn in his ear cause Matt to stand straight up, shaking. "Look what I found Matty," Izzy said victoriously from behind a massive curling horn. It looked like that of a mountain goat except somewhat crumpled.

"That better not be what I think it is," Shoshanna said.

Bridget ran her hand over the surface. "So she wasn't crazy." Suddenly something seemed to catch her eye.

"Who wasn't crazy, Bridget?" Matt asked absently, peering over at a Nebra Sky disc that sat above a round stone table which had a strange alchemic symbol carved into the surface of it. "Bridget, what is it?" he looked up to see Bridget walking toward a solid grey stone structure near the center of the room, just beyond a large armillary sphere. Even from this distance he could see the surface was heavily carved. He could just make out a faint blue light being emitted from it. "Bridget!" he called. The others turn to look to him and then to where he was looking. She did not even acknowledge him but kept walking slowly toward the object as though in a trance. "Bridget!" He rushed toward her, the others close behind. "Bridget!" He grabbed her arm just as it reached toward the silvery mercury-like substance that rippled like water in the heart of the rectangular stone basin.

She didn't respond, the strange blue light reflecting off her face. She only whispered, "The Sampo."


	17. Chapt 17:The Tale of the Three Brothers

**Chapter 17: The Tale of the Three Brothers**

They had pulled Bridget back just in time as the silvery liquid seemed to jump towards her hand. "What is that?" Ceelee cried.

"The sampo," Bridget said.

"How do you know?" Shoshanna asked.

"I don't know, I just do."

"But it was covered by a stone lid, I climbed on it to reach the horn. How did you open it?" Izzy said.

"I don't know... it just moved out of the way when I touched it."

The little group peered into the basin where faces were flashing in the silvery liquid. "There's the headmistress in her office. She's eating a biscuit," Izzy said. "I didn't know she ate biscuits."

"What did you think she drank blood?" Matt asked.

"Something like that."

"And there's Prof. Slughorn!" Shoshanna cried. "He's eating candied pineapple. And there's Sprout and Flitwick at the greenhouse and... oh dear. I would not have thought."

"What is it?" Izzy pushed forward. "That's not Sprout, that's my mum." Sure enough, the image had shifted to Mrs. Boot and Terry riding camels. "Do you think this thing let's you see anywhere in the world?"

"Let's find out," Ceelee said. "Show me Evelyn Carrow." The image shifted to one of Mrs. Carrow in the kitchen of her house, suddenly a man Matt recognized as Rodolphus LeStrange came up behind her and grabbed her. She turned and kissed him passionately.

"Show me the Three Broomsticks!" Matt shouted before the others would have time to recognize the man from so many wanted posters. Bad enough they all knew her mother was having an affair without them knowing with whom. An image of The Three Broomsticks appeared, bustling with life. "So it's not just people but places as well."

He looked to Ceelee, her face red as a pomegranate, she mouthed the word "thanks".

"I wonder what else it does?" Izzy said, reaching in.

"Izzy! Don't touch that!" Bridget said.

"Why not?"

"Just... don't. Trust me. It could be dangerous."

Shoshanna ran her fingers against the carvings in top edge of the stone basin. "Matty, these runes look like the ones in your book, the Suomi ones." She circled the stone basin to the lid which lay on the floor. She tried to pick it up. "It's too heavy. I don't think all of us combined could have lifted it off. And here... Matty look! It's the Deathly Hallows!" Sure enough, on one side of the lid the deathly hallows was carved and stained by a reddish substance. On the other side was a symbol wholly unfamiliar, dyed in the same reddish hue. She stood again, once more looking at the strange ruins, running her finger along them. "The bread of life..."

"and the salt of death..." Matt read.

"the gold of knowledge..."

"The three in one it is making that the owner may become..."

He and Shoshanna looked at each other. "Master of Death." they said in unison.

"Guys, look over here." Ceelee had moved off after seeing her mother. She waved them over to an open book that sat upon a table set up as a sort of workbench. "I don't think the hallows are here by accident..." She turned to the cover of the book, upon which was a large symbol of the hallows embossed in the red leather. Letting the pages fall they read upon the final line, _Ignotus Peverell_. "I think it's a journal," she said.

"Ignotus Peverell's journal?" Shoshanna breathed. The group all stood stunned. Since the Deathly Hallows had been revealed to be less myth than fact the Peverell brothers had become something of legends to the wizarding world.

Skimming the words, Matt stopped and picked up the book. "This last entry seems to be about the sampo," he said.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Read it," Izzy demanded. The others nodded and Matt began:

* * *

Some years ago, my brothers and I set out to travel the world searching to deepen our understanding of the magical arts. It was while we were in Copenhagen where we first heard of the Maiden of the North who was said to be so beautiful as to cause a man to take leave of his senses. Naturally, my brothers, Antioch and Cadmus wished to see this beauty for themselves that they might woo and win her. We traveled to the frozen land of Pohjola where we first encountered the blind shepherd, Nasshut. We asked him about the Maiden of the North and he did confirm she was very beautiful, so much so that even a man such as he felt himself affected though he could not see her. We inquired as to where she resided and it was then that he told us that the Maiden was the daughter of a sorceress who lived in the castle to the North. She would not accept just any man to win the hand of her daughter and had created a series of impossible tasks that a man must accomplish before he could win the hand of her daughter. My brothers and I were confident that we could pass any trial. Though the shepherd could not have known, we were powerful wizards in our own right, each having achieved great things in our respective areas of expertise and each of us carried with us the results of our work. Antioch, my eldest brother, was a great hero whose wand, carved by hand from the branch of an Elder tree, had never failed to win a battle; there was no doubt his was the most powerful wand in all the world. Cadmus, who was older by some years than I, had studied ways to breach the barrier between life and death, carried with him a stone of his own invention that allowed him to temporarily recall the dead to the world of the living that he might converse with them and gain their wisdom. And then there was I, the creator and bearer of the invisibility cloak. Between the three of us there was no task we could not accomplish.

Still, there was no reason to be foolhardy on the matter. Knowing that it might be a trap they sent me, under the cover of my invisibility cloak, to scout the area and determine if the rumors were, indeed, true. As I walked by a swamp I found myself singing a tune. It was then I heard a cry for help from within the swamp. Not revealing myself I went to see what it could be and found a fine-featured young man who had ventured into a bog and was slowly sinking into the quicksand, a wand well out of reach.

"Bard, bard help me! I heard your song and tried to follow you but got stuck."

Suspecting the man to have been hunting me I asked him, "What will you give me to help you?"

"Whatever you wish. I will give you the hand of my sister, Aino, in marriage."

"And how do I know you will keep your word?"

"I will tell you where you can find her."

"And where is that?"

"She is at the lake in the glen near the castle."

"And how will she know you have made this promise?"

"We can travel together and I will tell her."

I knew this to be a trick. Once he had his wand and knew where I was he would put an end to me. "That is no good."

"Then here is my ring," he slid a golden ring from his finger. "Show that to her and she will believe you and do as I have promised."

"Throw it over to the shore," I said.

"No, you will have to take it."

"I am sorry then, I cannot help you."

"Take it then!" he flung the ring to the shore. I let it lie. "Aren't you going to take it?"

I could see he was watching carefully for me. "It would not be right for me to take the ring until after you have been rescued."

"Where are you Bard? I can't see you. Take my hand and pull me out."

"There is no need for that." I waved my wand and in an instant he was free. He grabbed his wand and attempted to summon the ring, but I levitated it away from him. It was clear I was the stronger wizard of the pair of us. "It is bad form to break an oath," I said.

"Then take it and may it bring you nothing but misfortune!" The young man stalked off through the trees. Once I was certain I was clear of him I claimed my treasure and continued on.

As I approached the castle I heard the most beautiful song that bewitched me mind and body. I followed the sound to find a woman of indescribable beauty with great dark eyes and silvery hair bathing in the lake in a glen near the palace. As she looked to me, I regret to say I wholly took leave of my senses and, throwing off my cloak, chased after her. But as I was about to grab her she turned into what I took to be a fish and swam away. Exposed as I was, the wizard who was her brother revealed he had been lying in wait for me, cast a grievous spell upon me, causing my body to begin to die in slow, agonizing pain. The young wizard approached me and asked what my name was and how he had not seen me approach. Not wanting to place my brothers at risk, I told him my name was Väinämöinen, a traveling bard, who was seeking the sorceress of the North that I might entertain her with my song. At the invocation of her name the Queen of Pohjola appeared. It was then I realized why her daughter enjoyed such fame for it was clear she was a Veela, a dangerous magical creature that may take the form of a woman of such beauty that she could request a man jump off a cliff for her and they would without a thought. Knowing now what I was against I quietly cast a protective spell which had the effect of lessening her power. She was surprised that I was not, even though in my death throws, attempting to curry her favor.

"I am Louhi, the Mistress of Pohjola. Why do you not try to woo me?" she asked.

"Because I am dying, my lady." I told her.

"How did you come to be in my glen? How did my son not see you?"

"Because I am a powerful wizard, my lady. He was unable to see me until I wished to be seen."

"My son is a powerful warlock, able to see through any spell."

"That only serves as greater testimony to my power," I said.

"Why are you here?"

"I come on behalf of two other wizards even more powerful than I who wish to woo your daughter, the maiden of the north."

"Who are these wizards?"

"Lemminkäinen, master of the wand, and Ilmarinen, master of the stone." I gave her that false names that she would be unable to locate them or curse them from afar.

"And who are you?"

"Väinämöinen."

"Are you not a master of anything?"

"I am the master of the unknown."

"You speak in riddles wizard. The wand, the stone, the unknown? What are these things you speak of?"

"Should I kill him?" her son asked.

"No. Wizard, I will contain the curse my son has placed on you if you go to your friends and have them come to me and I shall test the three of you to see if any of you are worthy of my daughter by forging the sampo. If you do not return I will release the curse and you shall surely die."

"I will go to them at once and tell them, my lady."

With a wave of her hand the curse was lifted. I hurried back to my brothers and told them of all that had transpired. Antioch was eager to go but Cadmus was hesitant. He had consulted with the souls who wandered the land through his stone and heard that Louhi was an evil queen obsessed with what she called the sampo, a mysterious magical object that would give the owner power over death. I told him he must go or I would die. I reminded him if Louhi were looking for power over death then we would need his help to create this sampo. Fearful for my life, he reluctantly agreed to come along.

We were met with great fanfare at the palace. We were led to the throne room where we were greeted by King Sariola and his Queen Louhi. Both were fantastically handsome people. I noticed that Queen Louhi wore a full seal skin as a shawl which gave her a rather savage appearance. Beside the king stood the young wizard from the swamp and on either side of the thrones were a number of beautiful young ladies, including my Aino, the eldest of which had long hair like a black scrying mirror, eyes so dark and large as to be almost black, and a graceful long neck. She was adorned in a black dress with red highlights. Of all the daughters she was by far the most beautiful.

"Greetings wizards from the south," the queen said. "I have heard of your coming. That you wish to challenge for the hand of my daughter, Tytär." The nymph-like maiden in black raised her eyes to us. Around the iris I thought I glimpsed a rim of red.

It was Cadmus who stepped forward first. "Yes, my queen," he said. I noticed his eyes never wavered from the eldest daughter.

"And what are your names?"

"I am Ilmarinen, master of the stone," Cadmus said, repeating what I had told him.

"And I am Lemminkäinen, master of the wand." Antioch pushed past Cadmus, not wishing to be overshadowed.

"I see there are three of you," the queen observed.

"There are."

"How will you choose who will be her husband?"

"It will not be I," I said. "For I am already promised to your other daughter, Aino. Your son has already agreed to the match."

"It this true, Joukahainen?" The queen asked the young man. He appeared to want to object.

"It is true, my lady, for he gave me his ring to prove it." I held up the golden ring for her to see. With a flick of her fingers the ring flew into her hand. She examined it carefully."

"It is his ring and a pact between wizards is binding. Aino, you will become this man's bride."

"Mother, no! I can not marry this long bearded vagrant! How could you brother?" the young girl cried.

"Do not embarrass me Aino." The girl fell silent. "That is, of course, if you survive the test. If you should fail, you will join your friends in the grave." At that Aino smiled wickedly. Joukahainen chuckled as though he knew he had tricked me.

"That is fine," I said without the least bit of worry for I trusted my brothers and I would find the solution.

"You will have a fortnight to forge the sampo, the bridge between life and death. If you have not done so in a week's span then you will die."

Antioch and Cadmus appeared nervous, but I simply asked. "Is that all?"

"For fine wizards such as yourselves a fortnight should be more than enough time."

"Oh no, you mistake me, my lady," I said. "I meant, will there be any other tasks."

The court appeared momentarily shocked. I could see the muscles working in Joukahainen's jaw and wicked Aino's smile turn that she appeared as though she might weep. In truth, I did not know how we would accomplish the task of mastering death in a single fortnight, but I was not about to give them the satisfaction of knowing how dire our situation was.

For the first week we attempted to work diligently but our efforts were frequently interrupted by Louhi and her daughters, particularly Tytär who delighted in tormenting my brothers by setting them against each other fawning on one and ignoring the other one day and then secretly meeting with the other the next day but not with enough discretion that these meetings were not readily discovered.

Often times, late at night, I would put on my cloak and sneak around the castle to see if I might find something, anything to help with our predicament. It was on one of these nocturnal sojourns that I came upon the king staring into a reflecting pool that led out to the sea. He appeared sad as he stared, yet he did not approach the water.

I removed my cloak and stepped forward. "What is troubling you, my king?" I asked.

He did not turn. "Aino does not wish to marry you," he said.

"And, in truth, I do not wish to marry her. If that is what troubles you then you may worry no more. But I do not think that is what has led you here."

"No, it is not, though I am glad to hear it. I love all my children, but they have been poisoned by their mother's influence for far too long. You seem nice fellows. I would not wish for you or your friends to make the same mistake I have."

"And what mistake is that? Does it involve the seal skin your wife wears?" For by now I had suspected, both from Aino's transformation at the lake and Louhi's insistence on always wearing the skin that there was far more to it than simple warmth.

"Yes." The king regarded his reflection in the pond sadly. "I was once the king of the Selkies and often, when I was younger, I would swim in this very pool to the amusement of the queen. She seemed to me then a kindly woman who had been forced into marriage by the tyrannical king. I felt sorry for her, this young, beautiful queen who spent hours by the reflecting pool singing about her sad fate. I fell in love with her and swore when I became the King of the Selkies I would free her from the tyrannical king. When I became the king I revealed my true nature to her and asked if she would join me as my queen. I should have realized there was something amiss when she was not surprised that her seal pet had revealed himself as the selkie king, but I was blinded by my love for her. She told me how she wished she could, but that the king would murder her family if she left. She convinced me that I must kill the king and then she would truly be free to join me. I did as I was told but when I returned I found she had taken my skin and would not return it. It was then that I discovered her true nature. She had never cared for me, only for my power. Still, I loved her. Part of me still loves her though I know the witch she is. She knows you cannot succeed, just as the men before could not. She will use your blood and bones, freely given, for her spells."

"Then we should leave," I said.

"My boy, you cannot leave. You have made a contract with the mad witch of Pohjola. There is a curse upon you so long as the contract remains unfulfilled. If you attempt to leave you shall surely die as hundreds before you have."

"Is there nothing you can do to help us?"

"There is one thing. There is a book in her room that tells of what is needed to forge the sampo. If you can take that it may be possible for you to create the sampo. Though if she finds you have been there she will murder you and your friends."

"Do you know when she will be away from the room?"

"She often eats a special meal at midnight, you may find the opportunity then."

I thanked the old king profusely and went to steal the book under cover of my invisibility cloak as the queen dined on a midnight snack of human parts brought to her by the blind shepherd, Nasshut.

I returned with the book to my brothers, telling them all of what I had heard from the king. I had expected that once they heard the tale they would want to flee but neither did, both too in love with Tytär to even consider the idea. With the aid of the book we were able to forge the sampo. As our progress continued it became clear that we might possibly succeed in our mission. I came upon the king once more at the pool and he warned me that Louhi intended to steal Antioch's wand and Cadmus's stone that we would not be able to cast the final spell to awaken the sampo. I warned my brothers. Cadmus set his stone into the handle of Antioch's hairbrush, wagering that none would suspect it was there. Antioch would not hide his wand, instead he kept it with him, bragging of its power, that it was unbeatable and that it would be best if none made the foolish attempt to try. That night, as I was on one of my late night walks, I heard the treacherous Tytär speaking in secret with Antioch, plying him with alcohol. She assured him it was he she loved and not Cadmus and if he would prove his love by capturing the black swan that swam in the underground river of Tuonela then she would run off with him. He agreed. I begged him not to go but he was drunk and would not listen to reason. Finally, he agreed that if something should happen to him he would convey the message through Cadmus's stone. The next morning we awoke but Antioch had not yet returned. It was on searching his room that Cadmus noticed Antioch's hairbrush was bleeding. When we went down to breakfast I saw Antioch's wand in the hand of Tytär and knew what had happened.

Convincing Aino that I would give her freedom from our contract she led us down to the underground caves where flowed the river Tuonela. As we approached the place where the black swan was rumored to live we saw blood and flesh floating in the water. It was then that Aino said, "You will never complete the sampo. We shall feast on your bones in the halls of Pohjola tonight." Then she laughed and transformed into that strange creature that was something akin to a bird and a seal, leaping into the water she swam away. It was not long before we found the remains of our brother. The blind shepherd was there and he told us the whole tale of how he had been convinced by the Maiden of the North that the villainous Lemminkäinen intended to kill the sacred black swan that guarded the river to the underworld that night and that he must stop it. When he arrived it was just as she had said. He carefully snuck up behind the passed out Lemminkäinen and slit his throat, allowing the body to fall into the river. The swan tore the corpse to pieces. It was then I realized the black swan was Tytär, and that she had arranged the murder of our brother and stolen the wand.

There was little else for us to do. We collected the pieces of our brother's body and brought them up to where the sampo was. It would now have its true test. But we could not finish the spell without Antioch's wand. Cadmus and I were despondent, for we were so close, and yet we could feel death upon us, vengeful for attempts to cheat him. That night, we sat in our room agonizing over what we still might do.

"You might still escape, brother," Cadmus said to me. "Take your cloak and broom and leave here. I will distract them with the sampo. If you leave now you may make England before they discover the truth."

"But what about you? I can't leave you. I have already lost one brother, I will not lose two. Come with me. Between the two of us we can fight off her guards."

"No, I won't leave Tytär. I am in love with her and should rather face death than a day without her."

"Brother, can you not see she is wicked? She has attempted to delay our work by distracting you and Antioch. Did you not see the wand she held? She killed our brother and stole his wand. Surely you cannot love her knowing that!"

"I saw. But I love her still. It is not her fault, her mother has forced her to do these things."

"You are mad. She'll cut your throat like Antioch's."

"She may, but still, I will not go without her. Save yourself, brother."

"There must be some other way. Why can't I see it?"

"Clever Väinämöinen, always looking for another way. You cannot see it because there is none. I have consulted the dead, they have told me there is no way for us to succeed. Let one of us escape."

There was a slight knock at the door, like the pecking of a bird. I opened it and a large black swan waddled in, our brother's wand held firmly in her beak. In a moment she had transformed into the lovely Tytär. "Mother asked me to eavesdrop on you, to make sure you did not try to escape. Do you truly love me so much you would give up your life to me, Ilmarinen?" she asked.

"I would a hundred times over," Cadmus said.

"Then take this wand and promise me that when we are wed you will take me far far from this cursed place and we shall never return." she handed Cadmus the wand.

"Anything," he said, handing the wand to me and taking both her hands in his.

"That is all well and good, but first we must finish the sampo," I said. "Ilmarinen, ready the stone."

Cadmus plucked the stone from the handle of the brush and spoke the incantation. The stone glowed within his hand. He placed it in the center of the stone basin. I then took Antioch's wand and cast the incantation upon it. The stone floated above the sampo. Silver liquid poured forth from the stone filling the basin. The spell complete, I took the stone and returned it to my brother. "Let us see if it works," I said.

I levitated Antioch into the pool, watching as the silvery liquid turned gold and enveloped him. Once he had been wholly immersed, we raised him once more. Where the stitches had been, his flesh was whole and unblemished as on the day he had been born. He let out a gasping breath and sat.

"Brothers!" he cried.

I tossed him his wand. "Lemminkäinen, I believe you dropped this."

He caught it. "I didn't drop it..." he said slowly, as though it were only just coming to him. "It was taken from me. I was murdered. I remember. He slit my throat."

"Who did?"

"Nasshut, the blind shepherd. And then... I remember... she ripped me apart... Agh! I can feel her beak tearing my flesh!" He grabbed his head in his hands as though in pain. "Why did you bring me back? I don't belong here," he moaned.

"Because you are our brother and we need you. It was a cruel trick that took you away from us, not a proper death," I tried to explain but he would not hear it, only continuing to moan.

"I will kill that shepherd!" Cadmus declared.

"No!" Tytär cried. "If you kill him then you should kill me as well. He was tricked by my mother into murdering Lemminkäinen."

"He said it was you who tricked him," I said. "He recognized your voice."

"He is blind. My mother knows how fond he is of me so she must have imitated my voice." I could tell she was lying, but my brother clearly believed her.

I nodded, for there was little I could say or do. The king had claimed it was his wife's influence that had caused his children to be so cruel. Perhaps separation might improve Cadmus's woeful choice. "There is nothing more to be done then. Let us pass the test and leave this place."

We announced the sampo was ready.

The entire court gathered in the throne room. Antioch, himself, floated the sampo out for all to see to no one's shock more than Louhi's.

"My lady, members of the court," I said. "I present to you the sampo." The crowd was stunned.

"But that is impossible!" Louhi cried.

I bowed before Louhi, "Queen of the North, we have done what you asked. As you can clearly see, it works. Now give use what you promised and we will be on our way."

"One moment!" Louhi cried. "It has not been fully tested."

"Lemminkäinen has been brought back to life, death has been defeated."

"Yes, but the sampo does not just give one the power to defeat death, but to be master over him," Louhi cackled. She approached the sampo and, placing her fingers on the runes I saw the faces of the court appear in the glassy silver liquid. She stopped on three of the guards. She struck the liquid with her fist and suddenly the three guards fell over dead. My brothers and I stared at each other in shock. I looked to the king who nodded sadly. "It is perfect," she said. "Now we shall be able to conquer the lands to the South. No one will be able to oppose us."

"Then we shall take our prize and go," I said, hoping that we might regroup once we were outside Pohjola and find a way to steal the sampo back.

"You couldn't possibly leave before the wedding," she said. "Who among you will take my daughter for his bride?"

Cadmus stepped forward, "I shall have her, for it is her I love more than any other in the world. I pledge my eternal love, today and all day hence." At this Tytär only smiled treacherously.

"So it is decided. Ilmarinen will marry my daughter. The wedding will occur in three days time."

Once we returned to our room we discussed, under the cover of the muffliato charm, what must be done. "We must take the sampo and leave this place at once," I said. Antioch said nothing, but nodded.

"But how?" Cadmus asked.

"Perhaps my father might know of a way?" Tytär suggested. "But the way to him will be heavily guarded."

"That is no matter," I said, and I threw on the invisibility cloak and promptly vanished.

I found the king, once again, standing by the reflecting pool. "Your majesty," I said. "I need you help."

"There is nothing I can do for you. By tomorrow, you will be dead. She will never let you leave here alive," he said, sadly. "And then she will use the sampo to conquer the southern kingdoms."

"You majesty, do you know where she is keeping the sampo?"

"It is in the high tower, but you will be dead long before you reach it. I do not know how you even managed to come this far."

"With this." I showed him my cloak. "I know you hate the evil your wife has done. Help me and we can put an end to this."

The king nodded. "But what can I do?"

"We'll need a boat. How soon can you have one for us?"

He looked toward the pool. I saw a series of ripples. "Perhaps in half an hour."

"Good. I'll need you to come with me." He nodded and I covered the both of us with the cloak.

When we arrived at the sampo the king, seeming to appear from nowhere, ordered the guards away that he might examine the sampo in private for any curses. I snuck in behind him. We then covered the sampo with my cloak and I cast a spell to make myself invisible. The guards did not suspect a thing as we levitated the sampo to the reflecting pool where Cadmus and Antioch were to meet us, having been told of my plan through my patronus. Tytär waited next to a small boat that bobbed up and down in the reflecting pool which was no longer still but roiling. I could see dozens of seals swimming about under the surface.

"Reveal yourselves," I ordered and Cadmus and Antioch both appeared, having used magic to make themselves invisible.

"What should we do with it?" Cadmus asked.

"We should destroy it," Antioch said without hesitation. He pulled his wand to do the spell but Cadmus grabbed his arm.

"No!" Cadmus cried.

"You should not stop me. It is an evil thing, it can only bring darkness."

"But think of the good it can do!" Cadmus argued. "It can bring the dead back to life."

"There's no good in that," Antioch muttered.

"Perhaps not to you, but to others. Think about orphaned children, about widows. Think of all the lives that could be saved."

"Väinämöinen, what say you?" Antioch asked.

"I think Ilmarinen has a point. It can bring the dead back to life and heal grievous injuries. We should take it back with us, keep it safe in my workshop." I should have listened to Antioch, to this day I regret that I did not, but I was blinded by the potential of the thing to do good, not considering the cost.

"Do as you like then," Antioch said, clearly displeased.

"If she catches us she will kill us," the king said.

"Then we must make certain that even if she catches us it will do her no good. We must put a spell on it that will prevent it from opening."

"There are few spells she cannot break, but there is one," the selkie king said. "Are you familiar with blood magic?"

It was decided that we would use blood magic to cast a curse that would prevent the sampo from being opened. Cadmus, Antioch, and I each pricked our fingers and dripped blood on one end and the king did the same on the other. Antioch, having the most powerful wand, cast the incantation that the sampo might not be open without the living blood from both.

It was not long before the queen realized her precious sampo was gone. She flew into a rage, transforming into her bird-like form, her rage giving her the appearance of a harpy, cloaked only in a seal skin. Though we were pushed along by a favorable wind and assistance from the selkies, she was soon upon us, Joukahainen carried on her back. Joukahainen jumped onto our ship, wand at the ready, and began to duel Antioch while Cadmus and I fought Louhi.

"Traitors! Villains!" she screeched when she saw her husband and daughter aboard. "I will blot your lives from existence unless you return the sampo to me and return to Pohjola."

"Never," the king said. He took a spear and lunged at Louhi, slicing the seal skin from off her shoulder but she cut him down with her sharp talons before we could shield him. The king fell from the boat, sinking into the depths. The seal skin fell upon his body like a shroud, sinking with him as he disappeared.

"Served him right. He was always weak. Foolish," Louhi hissed. She flew at us again, forcing us to shield ourselves. Suddenly we saw a green light flash from the other side of the boat. Joukahainen fell backward into the sea.

Antioch wiped his hand across his bloody brow. "Serves you right, you crack-brained cock-bawd."

"My son!" Louhi cried. She flew at Antioch who began to duel her, matching her blow for blow in pitched battle. Never before had I seen anyone duel so quickly or fiercely. He fought as if he had no fear of death, making risky strikes at her. "You'll pay for his death with your life," she screeched.

"Try to take it you hag!" He struck at her with his wand, causing a blast to send her back and rocking the ship violently. Seeing the attention of all occupied by the battle I threw my cloak over the sampo.

"The sampo!" I shouted. "It has gone overboard!"

Louhi looked to where the sampo had been and shrieked her displeasure just as Antioch managed to hit her with a slashing curse, slicing off half of her wing. "No!" she cried. "My sampo!" As she fell she dove at me. "This is your doing!" she shrieked. But Antioch jumped in the way, spreading himself out to shield me. She wrapped her talons around him, pulling him with her. Both went down off the side of the narrow boat. We waited for some time, but neither ever resurfaced. And thus death took the first brother.

We returned home. Cadmus and Tytär, both believing the sampo to be at the bottom of the sea, left to begin their own lives while I returned to my workshop with the sampo safely hidden. For a time all seemed well. But Tytär, used to being the pampered daughter of a queen, soon found life as the wife of Cadmus to be intolerable. She became cruel and even violent to those who she felt she could oppress. He remained deeply in love with her, but she openly despised him, claiming she could not marry him until he was a man suitable for her. She became hungry for power, forcing Cadmus to acquire more lands and wealth by whatever means was necessary until he was quite well off, but even that was not enough to sate her appetite. She began to practice dark magic and to entice Cadmus to do the same that they might become the rulers of all the land.

Now at this time there was a boy who lived in the village near their land holdings, an orphan adopted by a poor family, whose parents had been killed in the war, known only as "the Potter's son". The only momento he had of his parents was a small knife. He had no idea that he was, himself, a powerful wizard. He was hired by Cadmus to tend the animals, but Tytär took delight in tormenting the youth. One day she took a loaf of bread and baked stones into it. When he went to cut it his beloved knife broke on the stones. Overcome with grief his powers manifested themselves and Tytär was struck through the heart with a magical arrow.

Cadmus was overcome by grief but eventually was enticed to marry the daughter of a local wealthy merchant. She bore him a child but he never loved her and every day he pined more for his lost love. She grew cold to him, only caring about showing off her wealth. He became obsessed with his stone, spending days alone in his room. He came to me one day and asked me had the sampo truly been lost, for he had given a great deal of thought to what had happened and questioned whether something so heavy could have been so easily thrown overboard. I told him it had been and advised him to move on for I knew he would attempt to bring the malevolent Tytär back. He begged me to help him recreate the sampo, that surely we could. That he had heard tales from traders of a wand made of elder wood that was unbeatable and if it was, indeed Antioch's wand, perhaps we could do it. But I refused. In my age I no longer saw the good of the sampo, now I had come to fear its power, as I should have before.

Cadmus was infuriated and challenged me to a duel, which I refused. But he would have his satisfaction. A battle ensued and much of my workshop was destroyed and many of the items lost but for those stored in this cavern. Even the ring I had taken from the Prince of Pohjola he took from me, it was this that caused him to be distracted long enough that I was able to disapperate. He combined it with the stone and the power of the ring boosted the power of the stone that he was able to bring back his lost love, in a manner. But she was only a pale facsimile, neither truly alive nor dead. She cared only for death and cared nothing for him. Driven mad by her specter he hung himself from the balcony of his fine house that he might join her. And thus, death took the second brother.

I am old now. I have guarded my secret for many years, and now I wait patiently for death to come for me. Dear Beedle, my oldest friend, I give you this last tale that you might add it to your collection in whatever manner you see fit. I only ask that you disguise those involved that they may not be recognized for the sake of our children and our children's children. I bequeath my cloak of invisibility to my son and trust you will deliver it to him safely. For years I have been the master of death and now I look forward to greeting Death as an old friend, that we may depart this life as equals.

Your dearest friend,

Ignotus Peverell

* * *

Underneath the name was the symbol of the deathly hallows.


	18. Chapter 18: Secret of the Selkie

**Chapter 18: Secrets**

"So that's why," Bridget whispered as she drew away from the book. She looked to Matthew. "They never told me."

"Told you what?" Shoshanna demanded.

"How did you know what that thing was and why did it open for you?" Ceelee added to the demands.

Matt and Bridget had the sudden realization they were not alone. The others stared at them, Shoshanna angrily, but Izzy and Holly appeared almost in wonder. "Should we tell them?" Matt asked.

Bridget nodded her head. "But you do it."

"Tell us, Matt. What's this big secret?" Shoshanna, said, clearly agitated. But then Matt could not blame her, she had seen her own family in the sampo as he had his, that they could be killed with the simple twitch of a wand from this room was a terrifying thought. Even had they faced Voldemort they would have at least had a chance to fight, to know what was to happen, even if they might lose.

He took a deep breath before plunging ahead. "Bridget... well... Bridget's a selkie."

"What?!" Shoshanna and Izzy said together.

Holly's eyes had lit up and she leaned closer. "You're really a selkie?" she asked.

"I am." she nodded.

"And, well, she's... she's a Gaunt. Descended from the line of Cadmus Peverell."

Shoshanna drew back, her hand in her robe. Matt could tell she was fingering her wand. "You're a Gaunt!" she cried. The last one was supposed to have died with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." That she would not use Voldemort's true name revealed her fear. "How is that even possible? We know the entire Gaunt line."

"It was from my mother's side. My great-great-great-grandmother was a squib, so they abandoned her to an orphanage."

"You're a Gaunt," Shoshanna repeated. She rounded on Matt. "And you knew! You knew she was a Gaunt and still you took her with us to find the Chamber of Secrets? What in Merlin's name were you thinking?! An heir of Slytherin?!"

"She may not be," Matt said.

"Who cares! How could you be so reckless? Who knows what might have happened? You could have gotten us killed!"

"Tom Riddle was the heir of Slytherin," Ceelee said defensively.

"How do we know that?! How do we know there weren't two or three or however many?!"

"Well, if she were the heir of Slytherin, wouldn't she be able to speak parseltongue?" Holly said as stroked her little white mouse, not even looking at Shoshanna. Matt was shocked. He had not heard so many words from Holly in ages.

"Who says she can't?"

"We all saw her at the sink. The same as the rest of us. If she could speak parseltongue it would have let us through."

Shoshanna seemed to falter. "Well... she could have been faking that she couldn't."

"But why? She would have never had a better time to fake it. Even had it opened it could have been any of us who did it."

"Only parseltongues can open the chamber of secrets."

"Ronald Weasley seemed to manage without being an heir of Slytherin or a parseltongue. Therefore, any of us could have been the one to do it and it would have been the ideal moment, when she might be able to escape suspicion. So why not then?"

Shoshanna attempted a reply, then faltered, and finally gave up. Now Matt could see why Holly had been selected for Ravenclaw. That was a grand display of the famous Ravenclaw logic if ever he had seen one. "Well why didn't you tell us then?" Shoshanna asked. "Aren't we your friends? Couldn't you trust us?"

"Tell you that I'm a part-human? I didn't know how you'd react."

"Obviously not well," Izzy snarked.

"My sister does make a good point," Matt ventured.

"But that was to her being a Gaunt," Shoshanna said defensively, "not to her being a selkie. I mean, I have a million questions."

"That's not much better," Matt said.

"But it's just curiosity!" she protested.

"Would you want to be asked a million questions about being Jewish as though you were some kind of freak?" Ceelee said. "I mean you are, but you know, about something that isn't your fault."

"Well... no." Shoshanna hung her head. "I suppose you're right."

"I would not even have told Matt if he hadn't caught me at the lake one night... changing..."

"You saw her? Do selkies change by transfiguration or is it really a sealskin?" Shoshanna asked eagerly. Matt shot her a look. "I wasn't asking her, I was asking you."

"Shoshanna..." Matt scolded.

"Oh alright. So, that means you weren't taking special ruin translation classes?"

Of course, when the shock wore off that would be what concerned Shoshanna the most, Matt thought.

"No." Bridget said, staring at her shoes.

Shoshanna breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I was beginning to doubt myself. But still, you should have trusted us."

"I'm trusting you now."

"I suppose that will have to do."

BWWAAAATTTT A large horn sounded. "You guys are boring," Izzy said from atop a shelf she had climbed upon to reached the top of the snorkac horn. "Who cares what she is? We're in the laboratory of Ignotus Peverell and all you want to do is blah blah blah friendship and trust. What a bunch of Hufflepuffs. Just cover the thing and let's see what other stuff he's got. Holly, come over here and give me a hand." Holly did as she was told, receiving into her hands a number of strange objects including a small crystalline ball that held wisps of white smoke contained within a decorative wrought iron holder. The ball slipped from its seat but Holly managed to catch it, causing her to drop a few long black quills. Shoshanna easily levitated the stone lid back onto the sampo. Izzy climbed higher to where Matt could no longer see her without backing up Then a few books dropped to the floor.

Shoshanna ran over to rescue them. "Izzy! Be more careful!" she yelled up to the curly headed blond who was shimmying across the top of a tall bookshelf. "Holly! Catch!" she called. Holly quickly dumped the contents of her arms to catch what appeared to be a misshapen skull the size of a baby's head.

"What is that?" Shoshanna asked in disgust.

"Looks like a house elf skull," Ceelee said.

"You would know," Shoshanna muttered.

Ceelee swiped the skull from Holly. "Yeah, we have a whole bunch of them in the common room, we use them as drinking mugs." She mimed drinking from it.

Izzy's head popped out from the shelf ledge, "Really?"

"No, not really." She tossed the skull over her shoulder, Matt winced as he heard an unpleasant crack. "Hey Squibling, there anything good up there?"

"Squibling?" Matt asked perplexed.

"Squib sibling," she shrugged.

Izzy popped out again with a dirty look. She threw a bottle squarely at Ceelee's head.

Ceelee caught it. "Nice. Polyjuice potion. I wonder who you'd turn into if you drank this?" She uncorked the bottle and gave it a sniff. Her skin turned vaguely green and her expression fell. She quickly corked the bottle and put it on a table that was half buried in rusted out cauldrons with holes in their bottoms. She stuck out her tongue. "Ugh, like anyone would want to drink that to find out."

Izzy had crawled across a gap between shelves and around a corner. "Hey Matt, I found something for you!" she yelled.

Matt looked up just in time to catch an ancient looking wand. "Ha ha, very funny."

"What is it, Matt?" Bridget asked.

"It's a wand." Matt then took on an accent not unlike Mr. Ollivander as he examined the wand. "Hmmm...Holly... yielding... manticore mane hair core..."

"Manticore mane hair!" Holly laughed.

"Come on Matt, be serious. That's English Oak," Shoshanna scolded.

"You expect me to know that?"

"Yes. You were allowed in for extraordinary magical knowledge. You earned nine OWLS."

"And none of them were in Wand Lore, if you recall."

"I'd think you'd at least learn the woods."

"Well... This is English Oak," he held the wand out triumphantly. Shoshanna groaned. Holly cracked up.

"Can I see it?" Holly asked, suddenly regaining her composure.

"You can have it," he passed the wand to Holly. "I mean it is your namesake afterall."

Shoshanna hissed, "It's English Oak. And you can't just give it to her."

"Why not? It's not like anyone here is going to use it."

"It could be dangerous. You don't know who it belongs to."

"Sure I do. It belongs to Holly."

"Don't be such a stick in the mud, Shosh," Izzy said, climbing down the final few shelves, her pockets so full of potion bottles they were bulging out like multi-colored glass balloons. At least a dozen quills stuck out in all which ways, as well as the skull of something that looked like a miniature dragon.

"You might not want to drink those potions," Matt suggested. "They look like they may have gone a bit off."

"That's okay, they're for that git, Boranos, anyway," she said, hopping from the shelves, face wreathed in a smile. "Look what I caught." She held up a bottle inwhich dangled a black bodied spider with sizable pincers. "I'm going to give her to Hagrid. He always says how we should never hurt spiders from the Forbidden Forest, so he must really love them."

"I'm not sure Hagrid needs anymore pets," Bridget said tactfully.

"I'm sure he doesn't," Shoshanna said back.

"Nonsense. He'll love her." She brought the bottle up to her eyes so they crossed as she looked at the small spider. "Right, Nancy? Hagrid's gonna take good care of you."

"That's for sure," Ceelee said. "In a month she'll look like a ball with legs for how much he'll be feeding her."

Matt checked his watch. "We should go, it's getting pretty late."

"Yeah," Shoshanna said, gathering up an armful of books. "We wouldn't want Filch to catch us."

"I thought you said not to take anything, it could be dangerous," Ceelee said in a tone mocking Shoshanna's voice.

"Oh what?" Ceelee raised her brows toward Shoshanna's full arms. "You mean these?" Shoshanna looked at the books in her arms. "They're just books, it's not like a wand or something. Or that knife you took when you thought we weren't looking."

Ceelee smirked, taking a small blade from her pocket and observing it. "You can never have too muck silver. Besides, books can contain far worse evils than a wand." She let out a low hiss.

Shoshanna paled and quickly put the books down. "You know, I really have enough books to read already. Are you happy now?"

"Yes." Ceelee stuck up her chin and walked out. Matt noticed she had not returned the knife.

"Izzy, leave the potions," Matt said. "I don't think Slughorn has enough beazors for all of those."

"Aw but Mattie," Izzy whined as she emptied her pockets onto the table before turning to leave.

"All of them."

"Oh but Hector's such a git, just one?"

"No."

"Fine." She produced a final vial of pinkish liquid with a strange foggy grey shape inside that looked strangely like a heart broken in two from her sock.

As they left the room door reappeared behind them. Given how long they had been in the ballroom it seemed strange that in only a few minutes they were able to cross the floor to the shore. Bridget said the words on the paper and, as they had thought it might, the floor receded back into it's disc shape. They talked happily of their discovery until they got to the hidden room.

"I can't wait to tell Pitchit what he missed," Izzy declared.

"You know," Bridget ventured. "Perhaps we shouldn't tell him?"

"What do you mean? He's going to be dying that he missed this!"

"I mean, perhaps we should just keep this our secret for now. If people found out about it the teachers might not let us go there anymore. They might close it all down."

"Yeah, have you ever known Pitchit to keep a secret? I mean, even I know his first kiss was with Moaning Myrtle," Ceelee said, casting a spell to check that no one was in the other room.

Izzy and Holly looked like they could barely contain their laughter at the memory.

"Bridget's right," Matt said. "We should keep this between ourselves. At least until we learn more about it."

"But we'll visit it again?" Izzy asked.

"Sure. We've got a whole week before the term starts," Matt said. And at the moment he had meant it. They all greed they would go back in the next few days, but, in the end, the week passed by without the quintet finding a time when they were all able to meet and eventually the days ran out and the Hogwart's Express returned with the students from break.


	19. Chapter 19: The Hebridean Black

**Chapter 19: The Hebridean Black**

"Matt! Shosh!" Donnie shouted as he spotted them waiting near the grand staircase of the entryway, his freckled face lighting up. He ran up to them, hugging them both at the same time. "Did you get my cards?"

"Of course," Matt said.

"That's good, I was a bit concerned. They say there's been some interruptions in the owl post lately."

"Interruptions? I hadn't heard anything, did you?" Matt asked Shoshanna.

"It wasn't in the Prophet, but then, that doesn't mean a lot," Shoshanna finished with a sour expression.

"Probably just a rumor. Tell your mum thanks for the socks." Donnie lifted up his robe to show a black and white badger cavorting on a black field with a background of gold, a black and gold scarf tied around its neck. It was probably the happiest, most active badger Matt had ever seen.

"Hey Boot!" a familiar voice called from across the room. Matt looked up to see Liam's tall form towering over most of the other students, his hand raised in greeting, a wide smile across his face. Liam slid through the mass of moving students with the grace of a seasoned chaser. He put an arm around Matt's shoulder. "Did you see? I won the family cup."

"Yeah, I saw. Good show."

"What is that? Like you were the best of the McLaggen's? As I recall that's not much of an honor," a sarcastic voice said from the stair rail. Ceelee was sitting on the thick, stone volute of the main staircase.

"Stuff it, Carrow." He turned Matt away from her. "So, are you going to the Knight's Club meeting on Friday? I won't take no for an answer."

"If you won't take no for an answer, then why are you asking me?"

"Common courtesy." He flashed a toothy white smile.

"Hey, what are you doing with my keeper?" Declan's arm wrapped around Matt's shoulders from the opposite side, pulling him away from Liam. "Trying to get him to spill his new plays. Well, it won't work." He turned to Matt. "You did finish the new plays, right?" Matt nodded. "Like I said, it won't work. Matt's a loyal Hufflepuff through and through. Isn't that right?" Matt nodded, feeling both literally and figuratively swept away. "Now come on, we need to get you changed for practice."

Matt found his voice, "What? Now?"

"Can you think of a better time?"

"There's a foot of snow on the field!"

"Good thing we won't be on it. Come on now and hurry up, the others changed on the train." Sure enough Matt could see Polly, Sean, Linnea, and the others already in their full kits holding their brooms and looking somewhat worse for the wear, except for Tip who appeared eager to go after the snitch after a long drought. "Big game with Slytherin. Don't want to waste a minute." Declan continued talking happily as Matt trudged along beside him to the Common Room, his hopes of a pork pie lunch fading quickly behind.

They didn't return to the common room until just before supper. Declan had them running drill after drill, taking full advantage of the fact no other team was dedicated enough (in his words, Matt would have said mad enough) to practice in such terrible weather. Matt's trousers, wet to the knees from walking in the snow, had frozen in position as he had gripped the pole. More than once they had caused him to slide. He was glad to peel them off his legs in the dorm room.

"My fingers are like icicles," he moaned as he fought with his snow-encrusted socks.

"That was quite a catch Polly made," Tip said, pulling off his sweater and shirt, revealing his scrawny chest and shoulders, somehow making him look even smaller, if that possible. He shook his short hair, spiked with ice from frozen sweat.

"Don't remind me." Matt threw a wide striped black and yellow rugby sweater at Tip, who roughly pulled it over his head.

"Caught you right by the ankle." Matt shot Tip a withering look. "What? You were still a good twenty feet from the ground."

During practice the unthinkable had finally happened. When Matt went in for a block his fingers, little blocks of frozen sausages that they were, despite his gloves, slipped as he grasped the hoop and he went sailing through and beyond into freefall. Polly, who had made the attempt on goal saw it and caught him. He had been lucky. If it had been Linnea... well hopefully she would have gotten a cushioning charm cast before he hit. He doubted even a foot of snow could soften that frozen pitch much.

"I'm starting to see why they only allow magical people to play, not squibs," he grumbled, pulling on his own matching black and yellow rugby sweater, a gift from Polly's mum for each member of the team.

"Oh come off it. Everyone's fallen loads of times. I mean, didn't you see me go into the upper stands?" It had been a spectacular crash, to be sure. Tip had clearly meant to change direction in the middle of a hairpin turn, but between the momentum and his own frozen broom he had slid off and was sent barreling through the canvas and boards of the stand, rolling down the stairs to the second landing while his broom continued up and then back down into Declan's waiting hand. How he had managed to somehow pop up largely unscathed was something of a miracle, and yet one they had come to expect from the pint-sized seeker. "Snitches or stitches. Am I right?"

Matt allowed a smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Of course I am. Now come on, lets get supper. I could eat a horse."

They arrived at the great hall and set themselves beside their team. McGonagal stood to address the students, beside her, the chair that would normally belong to Prof. Jones was noticeably vacant. "Before we begin there have been some changes made to the Quidditch schedule this year." Chatter broke out at the tables. "Quiet please. Our first match of the new year will be Ravenclaw against Gryffindor. Our second match will be Hufflepuff against Slytherin. This will be followed by Ravenclaw verses Slytherin, ending the term with Hufflepuff against Gryffindor. This schedule change was approved by all the team captains to allow Mr. Matsumoto to concentrate on his NEWTS. Are there any questions? If not-"

"I have a question!" Josiah Smith shouted.

The Headmistress sighed. "Yes, Mr. Smith?"

"I want to know why we are allowing an ineligible player to continue to participate in playing the sport. I have collected over one hundred signatures saying that Matthew Boot should be removed from competition." Josiah handed a long sheet of parchment over to Prof. McGonagal.

"Oh come off it, Smith!" Declan shouted, he was seconded by the rest of the team. "You're just sore he beat you at tryouts."

"Quiet down, Mr. O'Connor. Let us hear what Mr. Smith has to say. On what grounds do you make your complaint?"

Josiah Smith puffed himself up. "On the grounds that his play violates the rule against sticking any part of your body through the hoop to block. His entire defense is based on breaking that rule. This makes him ineligible to play both here and in the official leagues. Not only that, by allowing him to continue to play, it is preventing other potential professional Quidditch players from being scouted."

"Players like you?" Polly mocked.

"Miss MacHeath, that is enough!" McGonagal said sharply. Polly shut her mouth and sat back down. "Now then, Mr. Smith has raised an important concern, and I see much of Slytherin house agrees with him. Though notably, not many from the other houses. Certainly, it is true that Mr. Boot has violated the rule and cannot be scouted for a professional team." Matt felt his stomach sink. "As a devoted follower of the sport, I cannot say this escaped my notice. When Mr. O'Connor first brought his interest in allowing Mr. Boot to play on his team, I admit it was one of my first concerns. So, in the interest of fair play, I gathered the team captains together to ask if they would permit this change of the rules. Each captain agreed that they would allow it. Some, I believe, thought it might be to their advantage." She looked pointedly at Reg Jenkins. "So far as preventing anyone from being scouted for the official leagues, well, I must say, if a player could not beat Mr. Boot at the tryout, it is highly unlikely the National Quidditch League would be interested in recruiting them."

Calls of "oooo" filled the hall. Josiah stood, open mouthed, deflated.

McGonagal turned to sit and noticed Smith still standing there. "Will there be anything else, Mr. Smith?" Josiah shook his head. "Then I suggest you sit down."

Classes resumed and the weeks before Ravenclaw went against Gryffindor passed in what seemed the blink of an eye to the students. Matt and Tip spent so much of their time practicing there was barely enough time for homework, let alone the Knights Club. On a particularly icy evening, Declan decided they should hold practice in the corridors, a move that cost Hufflepuff twenty points but the mayhem caused earned him the everlasting regard of Peeves. Particularly as he encouraged Peeves to join in. Matt found himself dodging not only bludgers and loose stone, but ink, chalk, and dusty old tomes. Those he tried to catch. He even kept a few, including a three hundred year old biography of Merlin that no one seemed to know the origin of.

The club they had formed over the winter seemed to fall by the wayside as well with three of its members obliged to their respective Quidditch teams and Phichit seeming to have suddenly disappeared. Izzy said she heard he was sneaking off to meet his girlfriend who belonged to another house, but she thought it was Moaning Myrtle. She heard it was someone who had visited him in the hospital wing. Which was just as well, because he barely had time to see Donny and Shoshanna at meals, let alone go on adventures.

"We figure our only hope is a quick game and the less practice time Ravenclaw has the better off we'll will be." Liam explained as they walked down the corridor from lunch, heading to their respective classes. "They're like Ireland. Give them time and they'll beat you by scoring whether or not you get the snitch. Our only chance it that over the holidays they might have lost some of their rhythm. But it won't be long before they get it back. So this is our best chance. Creevey's been practicing all holiday. He even came up to play me for a week. You would have thought it was Christmas when McGonagal called him, Jenkins, and O'Connor to her office about the change."

The day of the match was bright, with barely a cloud in the sky and a chill so painful many of the students were unrecognizable under layers of woolen knits. Aloysius Selwyn, in an attempt to keep warm, managed to light a bench on the Slytherin side on fire, which Ceelee had extinguished before Slughorn even recognized the situation. Donny, always the one for creature comforts, had perfected a miniature fireplace which puffed smoke pleasantly between them. Shoshanna had animated a small figurine to put small sticks from a pile into the tiny fire. The Ravenclaws took the field in formation with Taro at the head, passing through a sparkling lights shaped like a golden eagle to ooo's and awe's from the stands. But Matt could see it was just as Liam had said, they were not as together as usual. There was a bit of a drag in their movements, the timing was slightly off between them. It was barely noticeable, but still there.

"And it's McLaggen with the quaffle at the toss. He's taking it straight to the goal... and it's good! Through the left post! Hawkins didn't even see it coming." Sean Brady's voice boomed over the stadium. "But Munhall's not about to let that go unanswered. Munhall to Masumoto, Matsumoto to Munhall. And where did Kineely-McConville come from! Goal by Bridget Kineely-McConville!"

Ravenclaw soon had answered McLaggen's offense with three goals. The loss of Dorsett was clearly felt. Jerry was not nearly as fast or clever. "Oooh! That's gotta hurt! And Card has taken a bludger to the arm. Looks like Kineely-McConville was ready for the drop. She takes it to the goal and... score by Kineely-McConville. That's forty to ten. Forty to twenty, goal by Byron Wycliffe. And it looks like Matsumoto has been busy over the break. Matsumoto to Munhall, Munhall to Kineely-McConville, Kineely-McConville back to Munhall." Tailed closely by McLaggen and Wycliffe the Ravenclaw chasers broke out a new move that seemed to focus on the front most person releasing the ball to be caught by one of the chasers flying behind, who flew to the front and then did the same. Suddenly there was a wobble from Jill Munhall. Matt could tell she had not found Bridget's slipstream properly. The end of her broom was caught by the drag. "Wait, something's wrong with Munhall. She's lost control of her broom! She's hit Matsumoto! She's spinning out!" Wycliffe and McLaggen flew out of the way to avoid her as she spun by. Everyone watched in horror. Sean stood, banging his hands on the table loudly enough for the amplification spell to pick up. "Bloody hell! She's going to crash!" Jill went helicoptering down like a maple leaf as the audience stood.

" _Wingardium Leviosa_!" There was a beam of light from Madam Hooch's wand and Jill froze where she was, just a meter from the ground. Madam Hooch flew down to check on her. Jill took a walk around, swinging her arms and hopped back on the broom, rejoining her team. In that time Bridget and Taro had manage two more goals by themselves, apparently having more faith in Madam Hooch to save their teammate than the Gryffindor team. Dennis Creevey flew up to Munhall as she mounted her broom, asked her something, and then, apparently, satisfied by the answer flew off. She rejoined Taro and Bridget, each nodding at each other before breaking into another formation. But this one was not as difficult. They were being conservative. Taro knew they were missing a step they could not overcome. It didn't matter, Gryffindor was still well outmatched. Even when Boots Luna slammed a bludger squarely at Taro, Bridget only threw him the quaffle which he used to block the spiky ball before putting it through the center hoop.

"That was a good block by Matsumoto. He must have ice water in his veins. Don't worry, Regina, no one could have blocked that goal, not even Boot," Sean said. Matt wasn't sure whether to be offended or flattered by the comment. "That's one hundred to thirty, not looking good for Gryffindor. Wait a moment, what's that? I think... yes! Creevey's seen the snitch. Haverford's after him, but I don't think he's actually spotted it. Creevey's got it in his sights and... He's flying straight for us! Duck professor!" Sean and the headmistress dove under the announcer's desk as Dennis swooped down to where Sean's head had been and, stretching out his hand, he caught a small golden light that had been flickering by Sean's left ear. Sean popped up looking quite mussed, he grabbed the amplification wand and spoke excitedly, "And team captain Dennis Creevey has caught the snitch! Gryffindor wins one hundred eighty to one hundred! This has been Sean Brady, signing out."

February melted into March, and on the first fine day of the last week of February, Hagrid greeted the class at the castle door. "Ah've gotta special guest fer you taday. But ah've got ta warn ya, he's brought a very sensitive beast with him, so you'll have ta follow be close like and be very quiet."

The Hufflepuff and Slytherin third years all looked at each other with concern. "I don't like the sound of that," Ceelee whispered to Matt. Matt nodded in agreement.

The trudged over the snow covered grounds away from Hagrid's hut. "Does it feel warmer to you?" Matt asked Ceelee.

"Yeah," Ceelee said and then she pointed up, "and I think I know why." There, in front of them, whipping out above the trees, was a great spiked tail covered in jet-black scales. A pair of bat-like wings spread into the sky as an earsplitting shriek pieced the air. The student's ducked down, covering their ears.

"Sounds like it's feedin' time," Hagrid said with a grin.

As they approached the snowless clearing, a stocky young man with bright red hair and a face full of freckles ran out from the woods. "Oh good, Hagrid, you're just in time."

"How is our boy?" Hagrid said with the same tone one might use talking about a puppy.

"He's hungry. Any longer and I think he might've taken a nip out of me." The young man grinned.

"Students," Hagrid swept a large arm over the man, "this is Charlie Weasley. He used ta be one of my top students back in the day. Now he's one of tha foremost experts on dragons in the world. He sent me a letter sayin' he was goin' ta be comin' through the area, an ah managed ta persuade him tah stop by."

"Charlie Weasley," he heard two girls whisper in awe. He turned and stared at Ceelee who was completely transfixed by the magizoologist, so much so that her mouth hung slightly open. Midge Owens was to be expected, there wasn't a magizoologist in the world she didn't know of and idolize, but Ceelee, was a complete shock.

"Well, he didn't have to pull my leg too hard," Charlie said, flashing a toothy grin. "I was transporting this little guy back home to the Hebrides for Angus MacFusty. Seems some people in the Fens thought he'd make a good pet." The monster shrieked again, whipping his tail about, sending branches flying. Little? Matt wondered. Just how big would this thing get? "Anyway, just follow me. Don't be afraid, he won't try to eat you, he prefers deer and rabbits." They followed Charlie around a stand of trees into a clearing. Matt could tell from the singed branches and sliced tree trucks, not all of the trees were cleared by Hagrid.

In the clearing was a massive black dragon, almost ten meters long by Matt's guess. He turned his purple eyes to Charlie and let out a shriek, spreading his massive bat wings so that Matt could see the veins in the webbing. His arrow-tipped tail thrashed into the trees, sending sliced trunks flying. The students let out a collective gasp. For most of them, including Matt, this was the first live dragon they had ever seen and the heavy chains around his legs did little to lesson the effect.

"Can anyone tell me what kind of dragon this is?" Charlie asked. A number of hands shot up. "If you get it right, I'll let you help me give him a snack." A few hands went down, including Debbie's. Matt looked at her quizzically.

"What? I don't want to be dragon food," she said. Tip's arm shot up eagerly. Matt knew he didn't know the answer.

"Ooo! Ooo!" Midge grunted, stretching her arm until it risked going out of the socket as Charlie pointed at the students, running his finger back and forth slowly as he surveyed the crowd.

"Hmmm... You." He pointed to Ceelee. "Slytherin. I guess everyone knows I'm a Gryffindor. Don't want to be seen as picking favorites, you know." He winked at the others. A few students chuckled, though Midge looked dispondent. "I kid, of course. It's because yellow is closer to the color of their food and I don't want to lose a student here. Madam Pomfrey would never forgive me." Matt suddenly felt better about not being called on. "Alright, what is your name?"

"Ceelee," she stepped forward proudly.

"Carrow..." Midge whispered loudly.

Charlie's eyes widened a bit, but he quickly recovered. "Ceelee Carrow? Is that right?"

"Yes," she said, shamefacedly.

He flashed her a dashing smile. "Well, Ceelee Carrow, what kind of dragon do we have here?"

She stared at him with a measure of shock. She had clearly expected to be sent back once he knew her name. "Sir? It's a Hebridean Black, sir."

"Sir?" he gave an exaggerated frown. "Not sure I like the sound of that. Call me Charlie." He turned to the class. Matt thought he saw a faint blush on Ceelee's cheeks. "She's right, he is a Hebridean Black. Hebridean Blacks are native to the Hebridean part of Scotland. They can grow to be up to 30 feet long. You'll notice he has purple eyes. Does anyone here know what advantages purple eyes might provide?"

No one raised their hand.

"No? Well, the purple shading of the eye is ideal for foggy or snowy conditions, which, if you've ever been to the Hebrides you know is pretty much most of the year. It absorbs blue an green light so it causes anything that's not blue and green, like its prey, to pop out of its surroundings. Speaking of which." he placed a cap over his bright orange hair. "You can see that between his spikes, his jagged scales, and his black color, to many animals he could easily be mistaken for a pile of rocks. This particular guy is named Fergus. Now most Hebridean Blacks are very aggressive and require a large territory of one hundred square miles each but Fergus here is a bit tame. His mother was the victim of poachers so he's been hand raised by Angus, himself. That's probably why those tourists were able to lure him close enough to stun him. Now come over here Ceelee." He beckoned Ceelee over to his side. "That's an unusual name, Ceelee. What does it mean?"

"It's short for Celestina," she muttered so softly Matt could barely hear.

"Celestina? That's the name of my mum's favorite singer. Though you're probably to young to have heard of Celestina Warbeck. Toil & Trouble is the big one now, right? Or is it still the Weird Sisters?"

"The Weird Sisters, mostly. But I prefer Witch Hazel."

"Witch Hazel? You're a girl after my own heart. Seeker gloves too. Do you play?"

"Yes, I'm the seeker for Slytherin."

"Are you now? I can see why, small, light, good eye I'm guessing. A lot like my sister, Ginny." Ceelee beamed. Charlie strolled over to a wooden cart and began rummaging in it. "You know I played seeker when I was at Hogwarts. Wasn't bad if I do say so myself. Now then, this is Fergus's favorite snack." He produced a limp rabbit. "Put your hood up. Don't need him confusing your hair with the rabbit. I'm going to hand it to you and get his attention, then you toss it to him. Ready?" Ceelee nodded. "Oi Fergus! Come on and look at me ya overgrown puppy. We brought you a snack." Matt saw nothing puppy-like in the dragon before him as it turned its horned head toward Ceelee, it's serpentine eyes focused on her, the inner eyelids flickering. Charlie held Ceelee's shoulders. "No toss it as high as you can," he said into her ear.

She threw the rabbit carcass in the air flipping end over end. Fergus drew back and snapped it out of the air, turning up his muzzle he swallowed. "Very good, Celestina, now go join your friends." Ceelee marched back to the group with her face pointed down, but Matt could see she was red all the way to her ears.

That evening, at supper, Matt saw Ceelee waiting at the main door. He was about to go over and speak to her when the door opened and Charlie Weasley came in. She snapped to attention as if she had been waiting for him. Matt hid behind the stone pillar beside the staircase. Charlie noticed her waiting. "Oh, hello. Celestina, wasn't it?"

"Yes. I umm... I had a question for you?"

"Sure, there's still some time before supper, what's on your mind?"

"Do you really think I'm like Ginny Weasley?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Just tell me." Her eyes gleamed hopefully.

Something seemed to occur to Charlie. He smiled. "Oh. You're one of Ginny's Girls, aren't you?"

Ceelee looked around and, seeing the area clear, she reached into her robe pocket and pulled out her beaten and dogeared Ginny Weasley card, red to her ears again. "Yes."

"Impressive," he said, taking the card and looking it over. "I'd wager you're one of the real ones too, not one of those who only likes her because she's dating Harry."

"Of course I am. She's one of the most versatile players in the league! And did you see that goal she scored against the Chudley Cannons - I mean I know it's not hard to score on them, but it was still perfect!"

"One handed throw at full speed while banking hard left, yeah, I did. She'll be happy to know she has a true fan. Would you like me to ask her to sign this for you?"

Ceelee grabbed for the card. "No! Please don't tell her!"

Charlie's visage grew concerned. He knelt slightly so he was at her eye level. "Now why not?"

"You know... because... because of who I am."

"She won't care about that."

"Still... please don't."

He straightened up. "You don't believe me do you? Well, I know who you are and I don't care. It's just a name. It not who you are."

She still looked unconvinced. "You're just saying that because you have to. Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because I know you're a good person. You don't get this far in my line of work if you can't tell the things that want to hurt you from the things that don't. Trust me, Ginny would be happy to sign it." Ceelee still looked dubious. "Fine, I'll give it back for now." He looked her up and down. "Well, I can't say for sure since I haven't seen you play, but you're a bit smaller than her, a bit lighter than when she made the team. Ideal build for a seeker."

"Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Come to see me play?"

"Didn't you just have a game?"

"No, they switched the schedule. Our game is this weekend."

"Hmmm..." He frowned. "That cuts things pretty close. I'll tell you what, if I can get things squared away with Angus in time, I'll try to swing back around to see the match before I head back to Romania."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Heck, if you have some time, I'll even show you a few of my old moves - I'll show you where Ginny learned it from. I'm free this evening until eight if you'd like to get some practice in after supper."

"We have practice after supper..." She looked crestfallen, before perking up. "But I'm sure I can come. I'll just skeev off." She held up a puking pastille.

"Ah, one of my brothers' finest creations," he said wistfully. "Meet me at Hagrid's hut at six thirty. I'll tell him to expect us."

"I will! And thanks again."

"No need to thank me, us seekers have to stick together. Now come on, let's get some food." He opened the door to the great hall and she veritably skipped through it. Matt followed behind.

The second the other students saw Charlie they were all over him with questions, not a few of them being about his younger brother Ron and Harry Potter. Midge Owens shoved a book in his face and asked him to sign it. Ceelee walked right by to her place at the Slytherin table. Matt contemplated whether or not to tell Declan what he had seen. If she was getting special coaching from Charlie Weasley, a seeker who had hoisted the Quidditch Cup, that would probably be something that would be important to tell his captain before the game. But then they might try to interrupt them, and he had never seen Ceelee so happy. This was probably the closest she would ever get to Ginny Weasley, he had to let her. He could always tell Declan tomorrow.

The next morning Charlie Weasley was again mobbed by an even larger group. It seemed his popularity had grown overnight in the dorms and common rooms of the four houses. Matt watched Ceelee walk in. Charlie made certain to wave to her as she walked by. She pretended not to notice but her face went red to the ears again.

That evening, Matt and McLaggen were walking through the corridor. "So tell me this week you're finally coming to the Knight's Club," Liam said.

"Well, Declan's giving us Friday night off, doesn't want to wear us out before we have to play. Yeah, I think I can."

"And then Oliver Wood just dropped straight down six feet and flew right under him!" Charlie's voice echoed through the corridor. "He didn't even realize what had happened until Wood scored the goal."

Ceelee laughed. "I wish I could've seen the look on his face. We were at practice once and Reg..." The pair appeared walking down the corridor that intersected Matt and Liam's, talking animatedly.

As they past right in front of the boys, Matt looked back to Liam and was surprised to see the dark look on his face. "It's bloody disgusting, that's what it is," Liam said.

"What is?"

"He's got to know who she is. Who her parents are. How can he even stand to look at her? The Death Eaters killed his brother. Almost killed his whole family. And here he is letting her hang all over him. Giving her special attention. Maybe she slipped him a love potion or something."

"Hang all over him? They aren't even touching. I'm pretty sure they're just friends," Matt said. Who knows what would happen if he told Liam about the meeting in the main room he witnessed.

"Which is all the worse. How can he be friends with someone who's parents helped kill his brother?"

"We can't judge her by her parents." How much worse would it be if he knew her father might be Rodolphus Lestrange? Matt silently wondered.

"Her sisters where for You Know Who too. They helped their parents and bullied us first years mercilessly. Do you really think the apple falls that far from the tree? She's their _leader_. He's probably just trying to be nice. But he shouldn't be. No one should be. Anyway, do you mind if I skeeve off our game tonight? I want to have a go at my speech for the meeting."

Wednesday morning came and Charlie Weasley was gone before breakfast, though he remained all Ceelee could talk about for the next few days. Liam's temper grew all the more surly and his remarks more pointed against her. But for once she didn't rise to the occasion. His snide remarks and open attacks seemed to have no effect on her, which only increased his ire. He continued to claim it was because of who she was, but Matt began to wonder if he might be jealous he wasn't getting her attention anymore.

"He what?!" Declan shouted so loudly half the students in the Great Hall turned to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner? We might have been able to plan some sort of defense." He grabbed his head turning around in a circle. "Oh this is a disaster!" he moaned, plopping down to stare dejectedly at his half eaten lunch.

"Wot's a disaster?" Polly asked as she sat down, piling baked beans onto a piece of bread.

"Why do you insist on having breakfast food for lunch?" Sean asked.

"Because ah like it," she answered taking a bite.

"Why do the house elves even make beans for lunch?"

"Because I asked them to. Now then, wot's a disaster?"

"Charlie Weasley gave Carrow seeker lessons."

Her eyes grew wide, the beans dripped off her toast onto her plate. "No. He didn't. You've gotta be having a go at me."

"I wish I was. Matt saw it himself."

"I saw him offer it, I didn't actually see them practice or anything."

"You should've followed them, spied on them or something," Polly said.

"I had homework."

"Quidditch is more important than homework!"

"What's more important than homework?" Donnie said, seating himself next to Matt. Shoshanna sat across from him.

"Nothing, if ya ask this one," Polly said, thumbing toward Matt.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't think it was that big an issue. I mean seekers... well it's more about seeing the snitch first anyway."

Polly folded her arms across her chest. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. Rest assured you'll pay for it tonight. What do ya think, Declan? Twenty-five laps around the pitch?"

"Oh, at least fifty. With a quaffle chasing."

"Do you guys have practice this Friday?" Shoshanna asked.

"Nah," Declan said. "Gotta rest before the game."

"Matt, I was thinking we might take a look at that puzzle again," she suggested. As far as anyone besides their club knew it was still unfinished and that was how they intended to keep it for now as they tried to glean more on its possible origins. Shoshanna thought that it might pre-date the founders, given that it allowed easy access to Peverell's Laboratory. Matt felt it was possible, but given the door, that the laboratory had been discovered by the founders when they created the ballroom. He posited that it would have been no challenge for Ignotus to simply have used a boat, and such a measure would have provided greater security for the room.

Donald took a bite of a chip, "Well, if you want to kill an evening accomplishing nothing, that's up to you."

Shoshanna stuck her tongue out at him, "Better than some boy's only "man" club."

"Do that again and I'll hex it green."

Polly had had enough, "Look, please spare us all and just snog already!"

Donald and Shoshanna instantly turned bright red, avoiding eye contact. Matt noticed a number of their tablemates were nodding in agreement.

"She... she likes... someone else..." Donald managed to stammer.

Polly laughed. "What? You mean Dennis Creevey? Oh don't look so surprised, Shoshanna, everyone knows. Didn't you hear? He and Boots Luna starting going out after the last match. It sure took them long enough, if you ask me. So there you are, Macmillan, no excuses."

Donald was now a brilliant red from the tips of his ears to where his neck disappeared into his collar. "She's my best mate!"

Polly, who was glad to be able to vent her frustrations on someone eyed him saucily, "Play your cards right, MacMillan, and that could mean something entirely different."

Donald's fist flew to cover his mouth. Matt hadn't known it was possible for Donald to go so red, but he had surpassed rosy quite some time back and was now the shade of an overripe tomato. "I... I have to go..." He hurried off leaving a plate full of half eaten food.

"I have to go as well," Shoshanna said. She was almost the same shade as Donald.

"Oh, but you just sat down," Polly taunted

"I... I just remembered something I had to do." She hurried off as well.

"Yeah, go snog Macmillan," Polly whispered in a teasing tone.

"That was mean," Matt scolded.

"I'd call it heroic," Sean interjected. "You have no idea what we've suffered these past years."

"Four years of will they or won't they might be fine for television, but in real life it's downright intolerable," Adrian added.

"You see, it had to be done, " Polly said, triumphantly. "It was for the greater good."

Matthew shook his head and continued with his meal.

* * *

It was half an hour later he ran into Shoshanna in a rarely used corridor she had lost most of the flush, in fact, she was quite pale but for two high rosy spots on her cheeks and appeared a bit distracted.

"Oh. Hello, Matty." she said, rather louder than was necessary considering he was right next to her.

"Hey, sorry about Polly. I hope she didn't cause you any trouble."

"No. Not at all." She glanced back at a classroom door. "No. Donnie and I had a long talk, and it was ok."

"Are we still on for tonight?"

"Oh... for tonight? Yes. I'll be there after dinner. Well, don't want to be late for class." She started off down the corridor.

"Shoshanna!" a voice called from the empty classroom, the door swung open revealing a slightly disheveled Donald Macmillan holding a book of runes. "You forgot your- Hey Matt." Donald turned bright red again, a sheepish grin across his face.

"Thank you, Donnie," Shoshanna said tersely, snatching her book from his hands and quickly walking down the remainder of the corridor.

Matthew watched as she turned the corner and then turned to Donald, brow raised.

Donald burst into nervous laughter. "You know, I honestly never knew."

"So then... you two are...?"

"I guess so. Where are you heading?"

"Potions."

"I'll walk with you a bit, it's on my way to Divination." He laughed again. "She's going to be impossible, though. Gave me a whole list of things I'll have to do in order to be her boyfriend."

"That doesn't really surprise me, knowing her."

"She wants me to stop going to the Knight's Club. Says it's sexist and McLaggen's a pratt. Well, she didn't use those words exactly..."

"Are you going to?"

"I don't know. Maybe you could come with me. She might listen to you if you say it's ok. I mean, you and McLaggen are mates now, right? So he can't be that much of a pratt."

"I guess."

"What do you mean, you guess? You play him in chess almost every day of the week."

"Yeah, but not these past few days."

"Because of Quidditch practice. I mean you've either been on the pitch or in the library. Hardly any of us has seen you. I'm surprised you have time to work on that stupid puzzle." Donald stopped, "Well this is my turn." He placed a hand on Matthew's shoulder, "Just come with me to the next meeting. Please?"

"Fine."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'll see you at supper. Good luck in potions." Donald waved as he walked away.

Matthew certainly could have used some luck in potions. His nerves were so on edge that he was unable to concentrate on the recipe resulting in an exploding brew that singed the tips of Prof. Slughorn's walrus mustache.


	20. Chapter 20: The Mark in the Snow

**Chapter 20: The Mark in the Snow**

That Friday, after enduring a long dissection of Charlie Weasley's Quiddich Cup win with Ceelee, Matt met Donnie in the Hufflepuff Common room and they walked to the Charms Room where the Knight's Club meeting was being held. "Hey! You finally made it!" Liam said, slapping Matt on the back. "You picked a good night. Here, come sit in the front." Matt was not thrilled to be shepherded into a seat next to Wycliffe. Though he did take some satisfaction in the indignant looks from Josiah Smith and his friends, but they were impotent to do anything more than grumble amongst themselves given Liam's welcome. Phichit waved from across the room. A spitball hit the back of his head, he turned to see Tip grinning from the back.

"Now then," Liam stood behind Prof. Flitwick's podium, the stool Flitwick used to stand on pushed aside. "I call this second club meeting of the year 2001 to order. Now, I wanted to give an update on one of our former members whom I had, well I wish I could say the pleasure of seeing while I was visiting St. Mungo's - you all know why I was there." A number of heads nodded somberly, Matt could hear a low murmuring of the words: the Carrows. "Yes, the Carrows. While I was there I chanced upon McCraig. You remember him. He was one of the founding members of our club. He had his wand arm and his leg blown from his body by a Carrow. And you know curse wounds cannot be healed. He's able to do simple spells with his remaining hand. He was almost able to show me a levitating charm. You know, the one they teach us as first years. He hasn't adjusted well to his prosthetic leg so he's stuck in a muggle wheel chair for now. He said Rita Skeeter had done an article about what happened with Dorsett. She was writing to plead his case, that he should not be severely punished by the Wizangamot, given what the Carrows had done to his parents, given what their daughters had done. He clearly felt he was protecting the other students by his actions. McCraig said he wished Dorsett had gotten her, that if anyone had seen what he'd seen, they'd agree. How many of you have been hexed by Carrow?" A full three quarters of the room had their hands up. Notably, these were almost exclusively Gryffindors excepting Josiah Smith who thrust his hand to the sky triumphantly. "Or one of her followers?" Everyone else's hands rose. Even Matt inched his hand up. Though it was only a bat bogey hex, and not even a very good one.

"I say Carrow and her squad of junior death eaters are a menace. How long until they graduate into the real thing? They follow her because they know what she's capable of. That as bad as they may be, she's the worst of the lot. She's already nearly killed another student, and that was in her first year!" He continued to rail against Ceelee with every possible invective he could expel, her and the other Slytherins of Death Eater descent - in no unclear way making claims that she and her followers were intent to carry on Voldemort's legacy if they were not stopped. "If we are to rid Hogwarts of the venom of the death eaters we need to get rid of her. I say cut off the head of the snake and the body will die!"

"Yeah!" A few of the boys who had become wrapped up in his speech shouted.

Matt stood up, he was done with this. Donnie grabbed his arm but he just shook his head and jerked it toward the door. He turned to leave. "Hey squib," Wycliffe said. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Yeah, Matt. What's wrong?" He could hear the questioning in Liam's voice.

"I've got a match tomorrow. I'd like to get some rest," Matt said stonily.

"It's not going to be much longer. Come on, stay. We have refreshments."

Matt rounded on him. He was done holding back. "And listen to one more minute of this? No thank you. So Charlie Weasley was nice to her. What's it matter to you? Just because you decided to hate her from day one doesn't mean everyone has to. Maybe the only reason she acts like that is because you guys are always on after her. Did you ever think about that? How many times has she actually attacked anyone who didn't attack her first?"

"I never attacked her," Josiah Smith said, defensively.

"No. You just tried to stun me, a squib. And even then you still waited until my back was turned." Matt was livid. "No really, I'm asking. Who here has ever been hexed by Ceelee Carrow when she wasn't defending herself or someone else?" A few hands tried to rise but slowly retreated back down. "Maybe Ceelee Carrow isn't the problem." He turned in disgust and strode out of the room.

As he was walking quickly down the corridor he heard footsteps running to catch up with him. A hand grasped his arm. "That was amazing!" Donnie said. "I mean, Wycliffe and Card will never let you get away with it, but still. McLaggen was just standing there with his mouth hanging open. You sure told him."

He turned on Donnie. "Is that what they normally talk about at meetings?"

"Well... normally it isn't that bad..." Donnie said, his cheeks reddening. "Sometimes we practice counter-curses and you know... other spells... dueling..."

"Shoshanna was right about it. I'm not going back. And I don't think you should either."

"But... I mean, I can keep an eye on what they say. Maybe keep it from getting that bad again. That's what prefects are supposed to do, right?"

"Badges aren't excuses," Matt said turning from him.

"Matt! Matt!" Matt hear Donnie call as he walked further from him. Donnie let out an exasperated sigh and ran to catch up with him again. "Fine. I won't go anymore. Now then, is it really true that McLaggen's mad that Charlie Weasley was nice to her?"

Matt smirked slightly. "More than that, I think he's jealous."

"Jealous! Why would he be jealous?"

"He's used to being the center of her attention whenever he's around. And now all she can do is talk about Charlie Weasley. She doesn't even acknowledge him when he insults her."

"Wait." Donnie stopped short. "Do you think he actually likes her?"

"I don't know. But I don't think he hates her as much as he likes to think he does."

* * *

The next morning dawned still cool, but warmer than what they had been used to. A perfect day for a quidditch match. They met at the pitch after breakfast. Matt gave a nod to Ceelee as they faced off. She gave him a slight salute back before Madam Hooch blew the whistle to start the game. Matt scrambled up the center post, the frost melting under his hands, making the pole slippery.

"And they're off!" Andie Greathouse announced. "They didn't try the same trick twice with O'Connor, but that little bit of hesitation to see if Jenkins would go for it cost them. Jenkins has the quaffle. And there's a back handed pass to Flint. Flint to Nott, back to Flint and there's Aspera with the steal. Aspera to MacHeath and there's the Sulkowski brothers with a punishing dual bludger hit. And now Nott has the quaffle." Matt tensed as Nott hit the ball to the lowest goal. "And Boot's going for it..." There was a collective gasp from the crowd as a bludger hit Matt in the stomach in mid air. He felt himself pushed backward, the air leaving his lungs. The ring! He had to catch it. But he was too far off. His tips hit hard against the top of the ring. He scrabbled at the metal desperately, not able to get a grip as he continued to fly forward. His upper chest slammed into the crossbar where the ring attached to the pole and he grabbed it with his entire body, wrapping painfully around it.

"Foul!" Declan screamed from somewhere far off. He could not tell where. He was capable of sight, but he couldn't comprehend what he perceived. He shook his head.

A whistle blew, somewhere there was shouting he could not understand. "O'Connor! Take it out on the quaffle!" Madam Hooch's voice rang out.

"Matt, are you ok?" he looked to his side and saw Tip hovering beside him, his senses returning to him.

"Yeah. Just a little sore." He managed to push himself up and stood, gripping the side of the ring. The cold of the metal felt good against his bruised chest. He didn't want to know who it would look later. "Get back to looking for the snitch."

"Ok. Looks like Sulkowski has a ten minute penalty. Anyway, snitches or stitches."

"Yeah, that." Matt said as Tip flew off. He was badly winded. He jumped over to the middle pole, catching it sloppily, and began the climb back up. As long as he kept moving he'd be fine. But if he stopped his body would stiffen and then he wouldn't be able to do anything. Between the numbing cold and the adrenaline, he was able to find his place again, blocking four more goals and losing only one to a trick play by Jenkins. It seemed O'Connor had taken Madam Hooch's suggestion to heart. He and Polly easily racked up goal after goal, putting away three for every one Slytherin made, with a speedy flight across the field by Linnea taking them to one hundred and ten points.

"And there's another goal. Fallon just can't keep up!" Andie announced, brushing back her white hair. "Hufflepuff one hundred ten, Slytherin forty. Slytherin's only chance is to get the snitch. But will they be able to? Walker's already proven he'll do just about anything to get it first."

Matt peered up at the sky, watching the two seekers circle each other. Suddenly, without any warning, Tip plunged over a hundred feet. Not in any directed manner, but as though his broom had suddenly decided to stop working. Had he seen something? No, he was only circling. Or was he? Without even thinking he blocked an easy attempt on the central goal where he stood. He wondered... his eyes scanned the crowd. There, standing near the entrance of the pitch next to the bushy black hulk that was Hagrid, he saw a stocky red haired man in a red and gold scarf, but... yes, he could make out a green and silver pin. Charlie Weasley had made it in time.

Tip was still circling low, clearly scanning for something he had seen. Two bludgers screamed through the air at him. He swerved to sideswipe the one and dodge the other. But it was enough to break his line of sight. There was a loud cheer from Slytherin. Matt looked up in time to see Ceelee diving. Tip's head snapped up to see her too. He flattened himself against the broom and bolted off in the direction Ceelee was diving toward. It was clear he did not see the snitch, but that didn't matter, he was still closer. Ceelee twisted in the air, banking in another direction. Tip turned hard to the right, the tail of his broom accidentally sending a bludger flying at Linnea who snapped back just in time to avoid having her nose smashed. Ceelee steepened her dive, and leaned hard to the side, suddenly she was spinning like a maple seed. But why? Spinning would just cause her to fall slower.

Reg Jenkins, never one to pass up an opportunity, scored while Matt was watching. His two friends were barreling towards the same point where a little gold light flickered. Matt glanced at Charlie who was watching closely, hand tight around his broomstick. The snitch, not content to stay still and be caught flitted toward Matt's goal post. Suddenly, he saw Flint coming from below toward his second highest goal ring. He dove, adding a twisting motion to emulate Ceelee, he gripped the hoop and swung through with such force the quaffle flew across the field and right into Fallon's head. He spun around the hoop twice before he was able to slow himself and perch on the top. How could he have forgotten? The twist slowed descent by conserving gravitational energy. Which meant there would be more energy for Ceelee to use once she pulled out of her dive.

Sure enough, the next moment that was exactly what she did, flat against her broom she came screaming out of her spinning dive. Matt saw Charlie pump his fist in the air in celebration. She was neck and neck with Tip. The snitch flitted up, right into Tip's line of flight, as if it were begging him to catch it. Tip was reaching for the snitch, just a few more feet. Suddenly, Ceelee ducked down, allowing the remaining stored energy to lift her, and executed a perfect barrel roll around Tip, snatching the snitch out of thin air.

It took a moment for everyone to realize what had happened. Then Ceelee landed, holding the snitch triumphantly in the air. "And Carrow has caught the snitch! What a heartbreaker for Walker. So close. So close," Andie announced over the screams of the Slytherins. Green sparks exploded in the air. "Final score: 160 to 200. This is Slytherin's second win, but the chase for the cup is still anyone's game."

Tip hit the ground with a hard landing. Though he was too far away to hear, Matt could tell he was cursing up a storm. Ceelee walked over to him and offer him a hand to shake. Tip just stared at it. Then he screwed up his face and gripped her hand, shaking it. Matt could read Tip mouthing "Good race." Matt glanced again to Charlie Weasley, who simply smiled, turned, and walked away with Hagrid at his side. Matt wondered if Ceelee had even known he was there.

Matt took his time in the showers and changing. In the mirror he could see the large red T where his chest had hit the cross bar and, below that, the shape of the bludger on his right side. He was glad to cover both with his rugby shirt. Declan exhorted them that they not worry, it wasn't over yet. Slytherin was only barely ahead. If Ravenclaw beat them it was almost assured Hufflepuff would win so long as Tip could get the snitch before Creevey. Which Tip assured him he would do no matter what the cost.

"Just try not to get yourself killed," Declan said.

Tip rolled his eyes. "I'll try." He whispered out of the side of his mouth to Matt, "But you have to admit, it'd be a heckuva way to go." This was followed by Declan's dissection of why Ravenclaw would slaughter Slytherin, who might have a few clever plays and a good seeker, but lacked good chasers beyond Jenkins himself, and Fallon was not much to talk about as a keeper.

Matt lingered as the rest of the team filtered out. "Come on," Tip said. "They're still having a party in the common room."

"I'll catch up," Matt said, slowly putting on his sock and tying the laces of his trainers.

"Suit yourself. I'll try to save you a pumpkin pasty."

Matt waited till they were all gone, then made his way over to the Slytherin tent. He wanted to congratulate Ceelee. There was the sound of jubilation coming from within. Nott and the Sulkowskis were leading them in a rousing, if unimaginative and tuneless, song to Reg's great leadership. Reg's shadow was standing on his broom, striking a heroic pose. He could see, silhouetted near the back of the tent, Ceelee's shadow. Perhaps if he crept around he could get her attention without the others noticing. He had no desire to have to explain to all of Slytherin why he was there. Ceelee would probably hex his mouth off before he could even get the words out.

Careful, so as not to make a sound, he snuck behind the tent when he happened on a sight that caused his jaw to drop. There, standing wrapped tightly in each other's arms, green quidditch robed arms tangled in red and gold scarf, lips locked together, were Phichit and Darius Flint. Darius stopped for a moment, gazing at the other boy, when suddenly his eyes went wide. He pushed Phichit away with a loud curse. Phichit turned and saw Matt. "Don't tell my parents!" he cried.

"I gotta go," Flint said and he quickly ran off, back into the tent.

Phichit looked deflated. Matt wasn't sure what to say. "When did that?" He finally managed before remembering Izzy's griping comment. He nodded in understanding. "So that was the person you met in the hospital. But I thought he beat you up?"

"Yeah, part of his detention was to bring me my meals. And, I guess, well, I got to know him. I mean, I was kind of a jerk about his mum. Nobody was surprised as we were that it happened."

"I might argue that," Matt said.

"Yeah, well, anyway, don't tell anyone, especially not my parents. They probably wouldn't be too keen on the idea of their only son being with a... well, another guy. Let alone the son of Death Eaters. I mean, he's not like that, but you know how people are."

How Phichit was until recently, Matt thought. "You know, maybe they'd surprise you. Ever since Rita Skeeter wrote that expose on Dumbledore, people have been more accepting."

"My parents always wanted me to be like Dumbledore," Phichit smirked, "just not like this. Darius is sure his dad wouldn't be any better about it, not so bad since he's in Azkaban, but he's pretty sure his brother would kill him if he found out. Frankly, I'm a bit surprised you're not freaking out. I mean you're not... are you?"

"I don't think so," Matt answered. Phichit looked a little deflated. "But, I'm a gymnast and ballet dancer, it's not exactly uncommon. I've had loads of friends who were gay. It's not a big deal."

"It is for us. Hey, what are you doing here anyway?"

"Well, I'm not really sure I should tell you..."

"Come on, you know my secret so you know I'll keep yours."

"Alright," Matt took a deep breath. "I wanted to congratulate Ceelee."

"Wait... What? Carrow? Don't tell me you two are an item? And right under McLaggen's nose! That does explain why you went off yesterday. But I thought you had a crush on Bridget."

"No! It's not like that. I mean I do have the... How did you know I liked Bridget?"

"Everyone knows. You aren't exactly discreet about it. But a lot of guys like her, so it's not really a surprise. So you aren't dating Carrow, then?"

"Nah. But she is one of my best mates."

"Get out! With the squib? Since when?"

"Since... well, since the train ride, pretty much."

"That long? I would have never guessed. I guess my secret is safe with you."

"Let's get some lunch, it doesn't look like I'll be able to talk to her any time soon." The shadow of Ceelee had been hoisted up on a levitating chair.

"Yeah." Phichit fixed Matt with a look. "Thanks Matt."

"For what? Hey, there's Holly." He pointed to where Holly was walking aimlessly in the snow, some distance away, near the whomping willow. "Let's see if she wants to join us."

* * *

It had been difficult to persuade Holly to come back with them, despite the fact her almost translucent skin was blue from the cold. When they asked her what she was doing she simply said, "I don't know." When Matt asked her how long she had been outside she answered the same, "I don't know." Phichit looked at him worriedly. Whatever was wrong with Holly was clearly worsening. But she seemed to return to herself with a bowl of steaming soup in front of her as they all sat chatting at the end of the Ravenclaw table with Bridget and Jill who had been discussing the match. The Slytherins were absent, probably in their common room, celebrating.

"Poor Walker," Jill said, "he must've been crushed."

"He'll be okay. He's a never ending fountain of confidence. Probably for the best if he loses every once in a while," Matt replied.

"Do you think it's true Charlie Weasley taught her that move? That's the rumor, that he gave her lessons."

"Did he?" Phichit asked, clearly more interested in the answer than keeping Matt's secret.

Matt shrugged and stuck his fork in his chicken marsala. "I mean it's possible. But I couldn't say for sure."

"They were spending a lot of time together," Bridget said. "But he was only around for two days. I just figured maybe she was really into dragons. I had forgotten he was a seeker until that rumor started going around."

She's really into Weasleys, Matt thought to himself. He supposed no one else had noticed Charlie watching the match.

"That was really dirty the way they had Owen Sulkowski hit you with a bludger like that. I mean you could've really been hurt," Jill said.

"So it was Owen? I can't tell those two apart," Matt said, with a smile. He didn't want to admit how sore he was.

The doors to the great hall flew open and Prof. Sinestra burst in, out of breath. "Minerva! Minerva!" she shouted between breaths.

The headmistress stood with a look of great concern. "What is it, Aurora?"

"It's the Dark Mark! In the snow! I was setting up the telescopes when I saw it!"

"Where?"

"By the Forbidden Forest!"

"In the snow, you say?"

"Yes. Drawn in the snow."

"Where there any footprints?"

"I didn't see any"

"That is strange. Students, go to your houses," McGonagal ordered, calmly. "It's probably someone's idea of a prank, but I'd rather not take any chances until we've investigated this thoroughly."

"Probably Carrow and her followers celebrating," Wycliffe called out. "It's the Dark Mark, right? Only someone who was loyal to You Know Who would do that."

"Be that as it may, Mr. Wycliffe, we are not here to make baseless accusations. Now, if you are quite finished, please return to your house this instant."

Phichit looked over at Matt as they shuffled out of the hall. "You have to admit, it is pretty suspicious."

"Maybe, but we were just there. When would they have had the time to do something like that?"

"Look, I don't know. I mean there's a lot of them. It might not have taken long."

"Do you think Flint would do that?" Matt asked him quietly enough the others around them couldn't hear.

Phichit shuffled him toward the Hufflepuff House corridor where they wouldn't be overheard. "No. He would never. I mean he... I know him."

"Exactly, and I know Ceelee wouldn't either. Something's going on here."

"Do you think it could be a set up by McLaggen and his friends? He hates her, right? He knows she'd be the first one suspected, might even get her expelled."

"No. No Gryffindor would use the Dark Mark, even to get Slytherin in trouble. There's one thing that bothers me. Why was it in the snow and not the air? No one could see it unless they were... flying over the school... I've gotta go. Whatever you do, don't leave your house until they say it's safe."

"What? What is it?" Phichit called, but Matt was already too far gone. He needed to talk to Debbie.


	21. Chap 21: The Shadow of a Man Transformed

**Chapter 21: The Shadow of a Man**

"Oh my gosh! I was thinking the same thing!" Debbie said when Matt pulled her aside and told her his suspicions, her hair still up in her two HufflePuffs and gold and black sparkles covering her eyelids. "I mean the Dark Mark is always in the sky."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I did an entire piece on it for the Junior Prophet - that's my 'Zine." She rooted around in her pocket and pulled out a small cheap-looking booklet that had clearly been hand-stapled together. The cover featured a picture of Gringotts with a dragon perched on top and the headline: After the Break-in: Ways Gringotts can bring their Security System into the 21st Century. "It's short for magazine, except their handmade so you don't have editors telling you what you can and can't write. They're all the rage with the muggles right now. Anyway, the dark mark is only cast in the sky. They used to say it was only after someone had been killed, but we know that's not true. There have been at least two instances where it was used without there first being a murder. The only other place you might see one is on the left arm of a Death Eater."

"How is it cast?"

"That's the other weird part, no one knows except the Death Eaters and they won't tell anybody."

"So, the Dark Mark, that no one knows how to cast but a Death Eater, is cast in the snow? Do you think it might have been drawn?"

"I don't know," Debbie answered. "Maybe. But wouldn't they have said that?"

"I guess the only way to know would be to see it. But we'd have to be in one of the towers to and we're confined to our houses."

"There could be a way..." Debbie said. "Wait a minute." She ran back to her dorm room.

Donnie and Shoshanna came up to Matt, holding hands. "Shame about the match. What are you and Debbie talking about?" Donnie asked. "New strategy? I'm sure her sister Angelina must've taught her something."

Debbie came rushing back, pulling a piece of rolled up parchment taught in front of Matt. "My sister gave this to me, said she and her boyfriend used to use these secret passageways to elude Filch. She said he'd want me to have them, but I think it was just hard for her to see it, him dying in the battle and all. Anyway, these ones with the X's are ones that disappeared after the battle. But these other ones are still good."

"Wait a minute, you two are planning to go see the dark mark, aren't you? You can't," Shoshanna said.

"That's right, McGonagal said-" Donnie started.

"Donnie, I wasn't finished. You can't go without me."

"What?!" Donnie said in astonishment.

"Well, I can't very well let them go rushing off when there might be Death Eaters about. Matt's clever but he's not much help in a duel."

"No. Absolutely not! I won't allow it."

"And what will you do, Donald? Lock us away in our rooms?" she had a wicked, challenging expression.

"I will if I have to."

"What is it we're not doing?" Tip asked, popping up behind Donnie.

"Nothing." Donnie said.

"We're going up to Gryffindor tower," Debbie said, enthusiastically. "Matt will get us in, he knows the password."

"You are not."

"I know a shortcut," Tip said.

"Is anybody listening to me? You're all going to get yourselves killed."

"Now if we go down this corridor there's a hidden door behind the knight, near Slughorn's storage room," Tip said, pointing to the map.

"I guess not."

"Why don't you come with us Donnie. If we get caught you can say you were rounding us up and bringing us back to the common room. I mean it was a rather sudden announcement, who knows where we were?" Matt suggested. The others looked at Donnie expectantly.

"Fine," he finally relented with an exasperated sigh. "But if we all get killed by death eaters I'll never forgive you."

They followed Tip down through the kitchens, picking up half a dozen pastries from the house elves along the way. He led them to a stone and, with a flick of his wand, it moved out of the way, revealing a tunnel down into the dungeons. And a familiar face staring in bewilderment on the other side. Tip, Debbie, and Donnie yelped, leaping back, wands at the ready.

"Ceelee!" Matt cried. "Relax guys. She's not going to hex you." He sighed deeply, knowing she would be mad at him for saying it. "She's my friend."

"Her?" Debbie asked. "You have got to be kidding me."

"'Fraid not."

They slowly lowered their wands but Tip still eyed her warily. "What are you doing here?"

She pulled herself out of the hole, dusting off the loose stones and dirt from her robes. "I was hoping to get a cold chicken sandwich with pickles. I didn't get the chance to have any lunch. Some victory party, everything was eaten before I even got back." A house Elf appeared and handed her a sandwich. "Thanks. Now, what even happened anyway?"

"You don't know?" Donnie was incredulous.

"No. We had just gotten back from the pitch when Filch sounded the alarm. I mean obviously we weren't trying to be out of our rooms or we wouldn't have used the front door. No one told us anything. The Slug's been questioning me for the past twenty minutes, even cast _priori incantatem_ on my wand and he wouldn't tell me why. He's on Flint now. Flint seemed pretty nervous that Slughorn might use veritas serum on him. I don't know why." She took a massive bite of the sandwich.

Matt grimaced. He could think of one reason.

"Someone cast the Dark Mark in the snow by the Forbidden Forest," Shoshanna supplied.

Ceelee exchanged a knowing glance with Matt, neither of them had forgotten their experience in the forest. "You said in the snow?"

That's what Prof. Sinestra said," Matt said.

"The real Dark Mark?" she asked, voice muffled by chewing. "Green glowing thing? Gigantic?"

"Don't know. We're going up to Gryffindor tower to see for ourselves. You're welcome to join us."

"Oh yeah McLaggen'll like that," Tip said.

"McLaggen can suck an elf for all I care. I'll come with you. I mean you'll need someone who's actually seen the thing before," Ceelee said. Matt had a good idea this was not her real reason for going at all, but he wasn't going to stop her. Of the group she was the only one who knew that Death Eaters had penetrated the Forbidden Forest and she was probably just as concerned as he was that they might be back, especially given who they were to her. She slid back into the hole. "Well, come on. Don't want to wait too long." She shoved the rest of the sandwich in her mouth, carrying it like an animal. "Follow me."

The quintet clambered in after her, with Tip, never one to not venture headlong into danger, even if it meant following directly behind Ceelee Carrow going first and Donnie in the rear, his broad body getting stuck several times in the narrow tunnel. Ceelee took them through the dungeon and past Slughorn's storehouse of potions materials. "All of my sloth brains are gone, Minerva! Each and every one of them." They could hear Slughorn lamenting as they crawled past the room. Tip tapped the knee of the knight's suit of armor three times and it hopped aside, revealing a secret passageway. They climbed their way up to the floor just below Gryffindor tower.

"Is the coast clear?" Matt asked from behind Ceelee and Tip.

"Yes. No wait. It's Mrs. Norris."

"I'll take care of her," Tip smirked, pulling out his jerboa. "Go on, you know what to do." The jumping mouse hopped halfway across the corridor where it stood, observing Mrs. Norris. She caught sight of it, her eyes glowing brightly. The jerboa tipped its head to the side, rabbit-like ears twitching curiously. Mrs. Norris gave a little chirrup and readied to pounce. She shot forward but the jerboa was too fast and easily jumped away from her grasp and down the hall, with Mrs. Norris giving chase.

"Aren't you worried she'll catch him?" Ceelee asked.

"Nah. If she does she deserves to eat him. Let's go."

They made their way up to the portrait of the fat lady and Matt gave the password. The portal swung open to reveal a number of Gryffindors lounging about the common room, but most were huddled around a window, looking out into the snowy expanse. McLaggen was reclined in a big squashy chair with his boots upon a table. At the appearance of Matt, he smiled. "Hey Boot, what are you doing here? You'll get in trouble if they catch you out of your house."

"Is Prof. Jones here?"

"No. Are you looking for her?"

"No. Just wanted to know if it was safe to come in." Matt climbed through the hole in the wall. "We wanted to see the mark."

"We?"

"Yeah, we," Tip said, falling through the hole. He was followed by Debbie, Donnie, and Shoshanna.

"Merlin's beard! Did you bring all of Hufflepuff with you?" There was a gasp from the watching Gryffindors. His eyes narrowed. "What's she doing here?"

"Stuff it, McLaggen," Ceelee said.

"Get her out of here," he ordered, pointing to the door. "For all we know you cast that thing."

"You know I didn't."

"And how do I know that?"

She leaned in closely to him and hissed, "Have you forgotten the woods?" McLaggen stiffened. "Do you know of a place where we can have a look at it, just you, me, and Matt?"

McLaggen was stubborn but not stupid. "Jerry, Byron, show these Hufflepuffs the mark." The two boys led Debbie, Shoshanna, Tip, and Donnie to the window, where they struggled to see the thing in the snow. Liam held Matt back by the wrist. "There's a better view from Prof. Jones's room. Come on." He led Matt, followed closely by Ceelee to the room and used his wand to unlock the door.

They slipped into the room, sparsely furnished as it was. It appeared Prof. Jones had made no attempt to make this place her home beyond a few plaid flannel blankets and an overstuffed worn leather couch facing the desk. A cold cup of coffee sat in a pile of cup ring stains upon her desk. They walked to the window from which green light was glowing. Looking out they could see it in all its glory, glowing brightly despite the late noon sun, the green skull with a serpent slithering in and out of the mouth, embedded in the snow.

"Well, there's no question about that," Ceelee said.

"No," Liam agreed. "But if it wasn't you, who could have cast it?"

"I think the better question is: why?"

"Why?" Matt said.

"Yeah, why was it put in the snow? Why here? Why now? What is he doing?"

"So you do know who it was!" Liam rounded on her.

"It doesn't really matter which one of them it was, but we can be pretty sure it was... him." She turned away, her tone conveying her disgust. She didn't need to say the name of Rodolphus Lestrange for Matt to know who she meant. "But why cast it in the snow? And when did they do it? I mean that Walker kid and I were up in the sky searching for the snitch, one of us should have seen it."

"The green sparks," Matt said with dawning realization.

"What green sparks?" Ceelee and Liam asked together.

"When Slytherin won green sparks flew up in the sky. I thought it came from the stands, but now that you mention it, it seemed to come from somewhere behind them. But I wouldn't have thought twice about it."

"Did you see anything else?" Ceelee asked.

"No. Nothing but... well, now that you mention it, we did run into Holly near the whomping willow and she didn't seem to know what she was doing out there or how long she had been out. I have no idea how long it was, but she was almost blue."

"Hmmm, could be a memory charm."

"Or the Imperius Curse," Liam added, darkly. "It would explain her."

"You think she may have been under the imperius curse?" Matt said.

"It would make sense, she acts really strange," Ceelee said.

"Yeah, but when?"

"Could have been the whole year." Liam answered.

"No..." Matt said, reviewing her behavior the whole year. "No, the Imperius curse gives its victims a sense of well-being, and, well, I don't think that's how I'd describe her."

"Long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs would be more like it," Liam joked grimly. "Yeah, you're right. Hard not to notice a girl that jumpy, and I've never seen her smile except when she's with you, Matt."

"She is really weird, though, with that dead mouse she talks to." Ceelee said.

"You're one to talk."

"Shut up, McLaggen."

"I don't think it's dead," Matt said, "I mean she's had it since the beginning of the year and it still looks the same."

"Look, we're getting off the subject," Liam said. "If it's not the imperius curse than that means it was a memory charm. Which means whoever it was who set the Mark was the one who cursed her. She's lucky they didn't kill her."

"Rodolphus wouldn't. He'd want there to be doubt about who set the Mark. If they killed her it would be obvious."

"But why on the ground. The only way you could see it would be from... above," Liam said.

"The thestrals!" They all said together.

"Someone on the ground was signalling them for some reason. Probably Uncle Magnus, he's the only one who wouldn't mind staying in the Forbidden Forest."

"But why?" Matt asked.

"I don't know. Maybe they're going to have another meeting in the woods."

"We should go. We can sneak out after dark. You could steal some Slytherin robes for me and Matt-" Liam started.

"Are you crazy? And get ourselves killed?"

"They wouldn't kill you."

"Yeah, they wouldn't kill me, but I don't want you dying."

"You don't?" Liam looked genuinely surprised, and touched.

Ceelee's cheeks pinked a bit as she realized what she had said, she quickly regained her usual appearance. "Yeah, you or Matt. They'd blame me for it and I'd probably get expelled just for going with you. You're not worth it, Liam McLaggen."

"That's what I thought." He turned to the window again, bit a slight smile fought the corner of his mouth up.

They rejoined the others at the Gryffindor window, except Ceelee who hung back at the entrance. "What do you think, Debbie?" Matt asked.

"There aren't any footprints. Whoever cast it must've been careful to erase their tracks, or was flying. Since it's by the Forbidden Forest they probably are hiding in there." She shuddered. "It's scary to think Death Eaters could be on the grounds."

"Tell me about it," Cass Weasley said. "I mean they killed my cousin and almost killed my uncle."

"They'd be no match for you, though," Tip said.

She looked down at the diminutive Hufflepuff whose head didn't even reach her shoulder. "You really think so?"

"Yeah, they'd never see it coming. It'd be like Ginny Weasley twice over with a wicked right hook. Oh, that reminds me," he dug into his pocket and pulled out the roaring jeweled lion pin, "I found your broach."

She smiled widely. "Where did you find it?"

"It was in the owlery."

"It must've fallen off." She noticed Wycliffe eyeing her possessively. "You know what? Keep it."

"Really?" his eyes shone with pure glee.

She folded his fingers around it with her own. "Yeah. You found it, you should get to keep it. I hear it's worth a lot of money." She said this last part while staring Wycliffe directly in the eyes, daring him to try to object.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. Maybe it'll give me good luck for the next match."

"Maybe it will," Cass said, still not looking at him.

"What is going on in here?" Prof. Jones declared, causing all of the students to turn around. "Why are there Hufflepuffs in here. And a Slytherin?" She stared in astonishment at Ceelee. "What are you doing here Miss Carrow? I might be able to understand Mr. Boot, I've seen him here often enough, but you?"

Liam stepped forward. "I'm sorry professor, it was my fault. They were out in the hall when the announcement was made to go to our houses and seeing as it was the Dark Mark, I decided it was safer if they stayed with us. I mean, it's a long walk to the dungeons and you know, if there were a death eater around, or a troll, or a werewolf - I mean you never know what they might let into the castle."

"That was very noble of you Mr. McLaggen. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now then, I am here to tell you we will be holding supper in the common rooms. We are searching the Forest and the Castle for any signs of a breach. And, as a final note, if any of you has taken Prof. Slughorn's sloth brains you are asked to return them to his storeroom immediately and there will be no questions asked. But if we discover they have been used in the perpetration of a prank you will be doing double detentions with Mr. Filch for the remainder of the school term. Now then, I will take you back to your proper houses."

* * *

The teachers never found any trace of death eaters on the grounds, at least none that they revealed. Though one student swore he had seen evidence of a fire in the forest, but he could not say whether or not it was fresh. The winter snows melted into spring and May was soon upon them and the final quidditch matches of the season. Ravenclaw flattened Slytherin, making up in one game for their two losses and leaving the finals wide open for Hufflepuff to possibly take the cup so long as they won their final match.

Prof. Slughorn never did recover his sloth brains. It was suspected that whoever had them probably dumped them in the lake rather than face double detentions with Filch for the remainder of the year. There was a rumor that Prof. Slughorn was putting Veritas serum in the water as, during class he would often be teaching and suddenly turn to a student and ask, "Did you steal my sloth brains?" but he had yet to discover the culprit. Cass Weasley had taken to actually speaking to Tip on occasion, though still mostly in front of Wycliffe and rarely beyond a greeting. Still, Tip was on cloud nine each time, no matter how often Shoshanna tried to talk sense into him. There was no breaking through that thick shield of optimism and confidence that allowed him to believe the most beautiful girl in the school was interested in him.

Ceelee and Liam were back to fighting as usual, though it did not seem to have the hatred it once did. Perhaps familiarity had finally led to an understanding between them, though Matt was not crazy enough to believe they would ever be friends.

The older students sat their OWLS and NEWTS. It now felt like summer was finally at hand. There was only one more match left for the year. Most of the students had grown restless in their classes and were already discussing their plans for the summer.

There was only one thing that left Matt feeling troubled. Holly had begun to fully deteriorate. She spoke to her pet mouse constantly and eschewed all contact with her friends. Bridget told him Filch often brought her back to the tower late at night, having found her wandering the halls. But he never had her do any detention for it. Even Argus Filch took pity on the poor girl who had clearly lost her mind, though Madam Pomfrey could not find the cause. Once, when Matt accidentally broke his finger after a bad bludger hit, he arrived at the infirmary to find Holly leaving. She just glanced at him and walked hurriedly away.

"Well, there must be something wrong with her!" McGonagal said, not noticing Matt had just entered.

"I've performed every test I could. I even considered possession by a dark wizard, but there's nothing. I can't find what's wrong with her." Madam Pomfrey said as she shook out the bedsheets of a bed Holly had likely just vacated.

"Eleven year olds don't just lose their minds for no reason, Poppy."

"It might be that she is failing to adjust to being away from home. What was her home life like?"

"She was adopted by an older couple, a witch and wizard from a nice little village outside of Newcastle."

"She was adopted? Do we know anything about her biological parents?"

"No. It seems she was abandoned as an infant. You have to believe that was the very first question I asked, given her behavior."

"Have you written the parents?"

"Of course I have, but they have put it down to what they call, growing pains."

"They aren't concerned?"

"The mother said she was confident we would be able to handle it and that it was probably just a phase."

"Do you think they might be cruel to her?"

"I don't know. But I will admit, the thought of sending her home gives me pause. But, then, the longer she has been away the more she has become attached to that mouse, so perhaps it is some form of homesickness."

"I thought that mouse was dead when I first saw it. But I examined it and it is very much alive." Madam Pomfrey looked up from the bed she was making. "Oh hello, Mr. Boot. I didn't hear you come in. Please have a seat."

"I'll leave you to it, Poppy," Prof. McGonagal said, leaving the room.

* * *

A few days later Matt and Donnie joined Shoshanna at breakfast. "Hey, Matty," Shoshanna said from behind the Daily Prophet. "Did you see the news? The dementors have been spotted heading North back to Scotland."

"It's about time," Donnie said. "Do they say what caused it?"

"No."

"Of course not. It's the Prophet. That means it's probably Death Eaters."

"Maybe they just don't know," Midge interjected. "Little is known about dementors. They could just have a natural one hundred year migration pattern or something."

"How come it's never been recorded, then?" Shoshanna challenged.

"Maybe one thousand years then," Midge said. "Studies on them as a magical creature have never been done. The ministry just saw a way to use them and did. But that will change when I graduate."

"You're going to study dementors?" Shoshanna lowered her paper and regarded Midge incredulously.

"Among other things, yes. Can you think of a better way to make a name for myself?"

"Yes, several. And none of them involve getting your soul sucked out of your body."

"Shows what you know. Magizoology is a competitive field. Every year there are hundreds of books and papers submitted. To stand out you have to do something really unique. Something no one else has done before."

"You mean dangerous, don't you?"

"Dementors are only dangerous because we don't understand them. I'm sure once we know more about them we'll realize they really weren't that bad after all. We just need to change how we think of them."

"You mean as terrifying soul sucking monsters?"

"Exactly. See, I made a stuffed one." She pulled out a grey stuffed creature in a black cloak that, despite how strange it looked, Matt had to agree was pretty cute. There was a bit of a commotion as Hagrid entered the hall with Rolf Scamander behind him. "Oh good, it's Mr. Scamander. I'll tell him my idea. I'm sure he'll agree with me." She ran off to join them as they walked down to the teacher's table, showing Rolf the doll she had made. He took it and smiled.

"Dementors, not dangerous. Maybe if you want to spend your days binging on chocolates," Shoshanna scoffed. "Looks like we have another special lesson with Hagrid," she said, shuffling her paper and going back to reading.

* * *

"Good mornin' class," Hagrid greeted them warmly. "I imagine most of ye noticed Mr. Scamander was with me this mornin' and prolly think he's goin' ta be doin' the lesson today. Well, not ta disappoint ya, but he's just here to check up on my Hippogriff herd. Seems his granddad wants ta borrow one for a trip," Hagrid beamed proudly. "Ta think, Newt Scamander wants ta use one o' my Hippogriffs. Well, they are the best in the world, if I do say so myself. But Ah've got a special treat for yah. Yer gonna love this. We just have ta go fer a little walk. They don't like being out in the open." Hagrid led the students a few meters into the Forbidden Forest. "Now where are they?"

Something large and white seemed to leap from one tree branch to another. "Ah there they are."

Matt and the others looked up to see a flock of large white creatures. They had the head and body of a deer, the hind legs, tail, and wings of an eagle. Midge gasped. "Perytons!" she cried rapturously.

"Yes, that is what they like to be called. They think its sounds regal," a voice said vaguely from behind them. They turned around to see a young woman, not much older than twenty, if that, with protuberant eyes, pale blonde hair, and an distant expression. "Well, come on. They won't hurt you." Matt wasn't sure whether she was talking to them or the perytons. A few of perytons flew down, four stags and three does. They pawed at the ground and tossed their heads back, the stags shaking large racks of antlers. One of the does yawned, exposing a mouth full of sharp fangs.

"Are they dangerous?" Aloysius Selwyn whimpered from behind Andy Greengrass.

"Oh no. They're very gentle. See." She reached out a hand and stroked the nearest stag on the nose. Matt was quite sure that he had read they were rated as one of the most dangerous magical beasts. "You can pet them if you like."

An offer Midge Owens was happy to accept, letting one of the does sniff her hand and then stroking its cheek. "They're so soft!" she squealed. A number of the other students came forward nervously to pet the large creatures.

"Yes, I met this flock when I was searching for the Crumple-horned snorkack in Greece. They are very fond of chips. There are twelve of them altogether, but they only speak ancient Greek so they won't understand you."

One of the perytons bounded overhead, perching on a branch to watch. Hungrily, Matt thought. He kept an eye on it. It cast a shadow over a few of the students. Matt wasn't certain, but it looked strange. As the students moved he saw it clearly, it looked like the shadow of a man, not a stag. He looked at the others, each had the shadow of a deer. He back up toward Hagrid, never taking his eyes off of the stag in the tree.

"Hagrid?" he said, tugging on his giant sleeve.

"Yeh?"

"How many perytons did she say there were?"

"Twelve."

"And how many do you see?"

Hagrid counted quietly for a moment. "Thirteen. Must've miscounted. Lemme try again."

"Hagrid, look at that one's shadow." He pointed to the one in the tree who seemed to have focused on him.

"Whaddaya mean?" Hagrid looked. "Oh dear." The peryton shrieked, knowing he had been discovered and swooped down at the students. "Get down!" Hagrid shouted. " _Protego_!" he pointed his umbrella at the students and a barrier flashed over them, just long enough to block the creature, who shrieked angrily.

" _Protego_!" the instructor said, flicking her wand. A shield formed over them. The peryton flew at it, enraged, it's hooves and antlers bouncing off as the students cowered beneath.

"We gotta stop this thing before he realizes there are other students out here," Hagrid shouted.

"Oh, yes, that wouldn't be good. _Stupify_!" the shield dropped and a red flash hit the peryton which simply seemed taken aback. He shook it off and flew at them again. "This is troublesome." The peryton flew straight at her.

" _Protego! Impedimenta!_ " a voice shouted from behind them. Rolf Scamander had appeared from the direction of the hut. The hit caused the peryton stag to shake once more and circle around.

" _Stupify_!"

" _Stupify!_ "

" _Stupify!_ "

Most of the students had their wands out and were casting stunning spells at the animal, though almost none were able to do so with any effect for they would not learn stunning spells in class for another year yet. Matt pulled Ceelee and Debbie close and whispered something to them.

" _Wingardium Leviosa!_ " They both shouted in unison, one aiming for the creature's tail and the other its front hoof. It flipped over in the air, unable to control its flight it thrashed about.

" _Petrificus Totalus,_ " Rolf said. The peryton dropped like a stone from the air.

The blond woman waved her wand and the peryton's descent slowed.

" _Accio_ suitcase," Scamander grabbed his suitcase, flipped the clasps up and tossed it so that it slid right under where the peryton was about to land. The creature fell into the suitcase. Rolf walked over and shut it, locking the clasps. "Looks like I've got a new friend. Thank you for your help controlling the fall Miss..."

"Lovegood." She smiled vaguely.

"Like Xenophilius Lovegood?"

"Yes, he's my father. He's quite brilliant."

"Well, his ideas certainly are interesting. He mentioned something about a creature called a crumple horned snorkack, would you happen to know much about it?"

She smiled brightly.

* * *

The morning of the final match came. "Don't expect me to go easy on you because we're friends," Liam said as he passed Matt at breakfast.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Matt answered.

Though the morning had begun rainy, by the time the match rolled around it was as fine a day as a person could ask for. The stands were packed. Cass and Boots were stirring up the crowd. Andie Greathouse assumed her position at the announcer's desk next to the headmistress. She threw a salute at Sean who returned it with a wink before saddling his broom. A warm breeze wafted through the stadium. Matt took a deep whiff.

"Hey Matt, snitches or stitches," Tip said, raising his broom.

"Snitches or stitches," Matt returned.

Madam Hooch blew the whistle and Matt shimmied up the pole. "And McLaggen has the quaffle!" Andie announced. "McLaggen to Wycliffe, Wycliffe to Card, Card back to Wycliffe, drop pass to McLaggen and goal! Gryffindor with an early lead."

Matt glared at the red robe tails as they flew away. He'd have to be more careful.

"And O'Connor with the quaffle, he's taking it in, and oh! Bludger to the shoulder by Cass Weasley, and he drops it. Show the boys how it's done Cass!" Matt expected to hear Prof. McGonagal object but when he glanced over she was sitting with a tight-lipped smile playing on her thin lips. "Card with the quaffle, to Wycliffe, Wycliffe throws and... blocked by Boot." Matt saw Linnea Aspera wide open and threw the quaffle towards her. "Well now there's a move you don't see every day. Boots Luna just hit the bludger into the path of the quaffle. It's bounced off and away from Aspera! And McLaggen's waiting. McLaggen has it and... he puts it in the lowest hoop! Twenty points Gryffindor. And there go the seekers!"

Creevey and Tip were flying neck and neck, weaving through the chasers. Tip ducked a bludger and leaned into his broom turning sharply into the Gryffindor goal area. He and Dennis flew in and out of the posts before taking a lap around the pitch. But no. They slowed. Their circles widening, rising. Tip took another two laps around the pitch before rising back up into the sky.

"And O'Connor scores! Putting Hufflepuff on the board twenty to ten." Matt stretched his arms and tossed his head from side to side, readying his shoulders. He dove for the lowest hoop blocking the quaffle and sending it flying to Polly who was promptly struck on her side by a bludger from Cass, followed two seconds later by one to her upper back from Boots Luna. The quaffle dropped and Liam recovered it just as it was about to hit the ground, Sean Brady nailed him in the chest with a bludger, but, though the quaffle popped up from his hands Wycliffe was there to grab it. The strength of Gryffindor was their beaters and their chasers, Declan had said, and they were proving it today. Matt dropped to block another attempt, pounding it with his fist. Fifty points to thirty with Gryffindor in the lead. Seventy to fifty with no change in leader.

"And it's ninety to ninety at one hour and twenty minutes into the game," Andie Greathouse announced. "Card with the quaffle and he passes to McLaggen but what's this? Intercepted by MacHeath!" Polly had flown straight up between Jerry Card and Liam and snatched the quaffle out of midair. "And she's dodged a bludger by Weasley, and there's one by Luna to her arm but she holds on. Is she going to pass it? No, I think she's going for it!" Polly flew straight for the goals. As she approached she drew her legs up into a crouch, quaffle tucked in, she knelt on her broom. "Oh no, it she going to? Yes she is! The Chelmondiston Charge!" Polly stood just as she approached the goals and leapt, thrusting the quaffle toward the second highest goalpost while the keeper waited at the tallest where her broom had been pointed. She grasped at the air as she fell, and then her wrist was caught and Declan hoisted her up onto his broom. The crowd, that had held its breath, exploded in applause. Linnea swooped by and tossed Polly her abandoned broom. "And Hufflepuff pulls into the lead with one hundred points in what was easily the maddest play I have ever seen!"

The game continued on. For each goal from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff matched it. It was two hours in and Matt's arms were becoming sore. The math was clear, whichever team got the snitch would win the cup. But after a few false starts, the snitch had remained elusive. And then... What was that? A golden glint was hovering at almost the center of the field. He looked up to see Dennis and Tip diving toward it.

"And the seekers have seen the snitch! They're diving! But which will get there first?"

Both were almost flat against their brooms, Matt could hear the wind screaming around them even at this distance. They were neck and neck, both at the tips of their brooms, reaching out. The snitch flitted down. It was only a few meters off the ground. At this speed they would not be able to pull up in time if they continued. Matt could see the realization in Dennis Creevey's eyes. Still he refused to pull up. They were approaching the point of no return. If they didn't pull up now and fly around for a horizontal approach they would crash into the ground. Dennis glanced over at Tip, then at the snitch, then at Tip again. Matt saw his expression slacken as he pulled up.

"Pull up, Walker!" Declan shouted.

"Pull up!" cries from Linnea and Polly echoed.

"He's going to crash!" Andie shouted. "Pull up, Walker!"

Matt saw what looked like a set of robes fly up into the air. It was Tip! Time seemed to slow down as Matt watched. Tip had let go of the broom and for a moment seemed to float as he closed his hand upon where the snitch had been. Matt could see a smile upon his face. Then all at once Tip's broom hit the pitch, burying its front end almost a foot into the soft dirt. Tip slammed into the ground a moment later, unmoving.

"Tip!" a woman screamed from somewhere. Matt couldn't tell who it was. He couldn't think. All he could see was the pile of yellow robes on the pitch.

"Tip!" He shouted, sliding down the pole. Around him the others had landed and were dismounting their brooms.

"Walker's down!" Andie's voice was heard booming around them.

Matt thought he saw the limp pile of robes shift. Then rise. Tip got to his feet, a little shakily and thrust his hand up, snitch flitting helplessly as he held it aloft, grinning, a gap where his front tooth had been. A cheer rose from the crowd as Declan, Matt, and the rest of the team ran to him. Declan was the first to him, "That was the most reckless, most dangerous, stupidest..." he lifted him into the air in a great bear hug, "Don't do that to me!" he scolded, almost in tears from joy or relief Matt could not tell.

"Hey, snitches or stitches," Tip said when Declan put him down, whistling through his lost tooth on the last syllable. The rest of the team gathered round him, patting him on the back, hugging him.

"Nevermind what I said before; _that_ was the maddest play I have ever seen," Andie said. "And Walker's done it. Final score two hundred eighty to one hundred twenty. Hufflepuff has won the cup! And here comes Gryffindor."

Cass Weasley marched up to Tip looking like she might hit him with her beater bat. "Hey Cass," He smiled.

"Don't 'Hey Cass' me," she said, throwing down her bat she picked Tip up by the front of his robes and kissed him. Hoots and hollers surrounded them from the stands.

"I can tell you I wasn't expecting that," Andie said.

Dennis Creevey shook hands with Declan and then Tip, once he had been released, though he was a little dazed. Liam clapped Matt on the back and said, "Good game."

"You too," Matt returned.

* * *

The festivities of Hufflepuff house lasted well into the night. The next week passed lazily. Matt, Shoshanna, and Bridget often studied outside in the shade of the trees overlooking the lake. All that was left was to pass their finals and then they would be able to enjoy the summer. This should've been a happy time for Matt, afterall, they had just won the quidditch cup and he was anxious to see his parents and Terry again. But it wasn't. He had glimpsed Holly the other day. Her eyes were sunken, with dark circles around them. She looked as though she hadn't slept in weeks. Or eaten. Always thin, she was almost skeletal. He had asked Bridget what was going on with her.

"I don't know," Bridget had replied. "I've tried talking to her dozens of times. She just walks on by me talkin' to that mouse."

He resolved the next time he saw her he would talk to her, make her tell him what was going on. He found his chance as he, Debbie, Midge, and Andy were walking from the library after a long evening of studying for their third finals. For the Hufflepuffs that meant potions, for Andy, transfiguration. Madam Pince had been none to pleased when he had transfigured a History of Hogwarts into a hedgehog.

"What are three uses for Mandrakes?" he asked.

"Mandrake restorative draught, Wiggenweld potion, and..." Debbie looked up to the ceiling.

"Petrify your enemies," Andy added.

"Andy! That's the kind of answer only a Slytherin would give." She elbowed him lightly. "Now you've made me lose my train of thought."

"Mandrake uses..." Matt suggested.

"Oh, I can't remember! Oh yeah, Memory Potion! Stewed mandrakes are an ingredient in memory potions. My turn. What are the ingredients to a Deflating Draught?"

"The Deflating Draught contains-" Suddenly Matt saw Holly flash by an archway in the corridor. "I'm sorry, I just remembered something. I'll catch up with you later," Matt said.

He chased after Holly. "Hey Holly! Wait up." He knew she could hear him but she kept on walking. "Holly!" he said, grabbing her shoulder. She turned. He drew back at the sight of her face drawn from stress, eyes flashing with terror. "Holly, are you ok?" They hadn't been the words he had meant to say, but they came rushing from his lips. She looked away from him. "Holly, what is it? If you're in trouble we can help you."

"Nobody can help," she muttered to the stone floor.

"Yes, we can. Just tell me what the problem is."

She looked up at him. Her big blue eyes locking with his own. "It's Artemis."

"What about him?" Had he finally died?

"He's telling me to do things. But I don't want to do them."

"What kind of things?"

She glanced away from him. "Bad things." she said in a small voice.

Matt felt a thrill of terror shoot through him and settle in his stomach. "What sort of bad things?"

"He-" she stopped short. "I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I can't!" she cried out. "He won't let me!"

"Artemis?"

She just stood there, dissolving into tears, her body shaking, lips sucked in. As though her body were refusing to let her speak any further.

"What's going on here?" Tip interrupted, swinging across Matt's shoulder.

"Tip!" Matt exclaimed, irritated.

Holly shook her head, turned and ran off.

"Is she ok?" Tip asked, watching her. "Must be the stress of finals, you know how it is for first years. I mean most of them have never even been to a proper school. Hey Matt, look what Shoshanna gave me." He produced a golden coin. "See, its got a protean charm, like the ones the DA uses. I tricked her into making one for me. Now you can give me the answers to the final exams."

"And why would I do that?"

"Well, cause we're mates."

"If you needed help, you should have joined our study group."

"Yeah, but I don't like study groups. Besides, I've been busy."

"You could have studied with her."

"Nah, she's brilliant, she doesn't have to study."

"Then it's your own fault you're in this mess, isn't it?"

"Come on, just this once."

"Look, even if I wanted to help you, which I don't, I can't. A protean charm requires magic, remember?"

Tip's eyes grew wide with realization, then narrowed. "She tricked me! I'll get her back for this."

"Good luck with that. I'm pretty sure she'll be expecting it. Besides, you deserved it for trying to cheat. But if you want, I'll help you study."

"Fine. If I have to."

* * *

Helping Tip to study turned out to be an all night affair. Matt barely got two hours of sleep before the test. He wanted, more than anything to go to sleep that night, but he had promised Bridget he would help her with Defense Against the Dark Arts, that night. Plus he needed to tell her what Holly had said. Maybe she could watch over her. As they were leaving the library they gazed out the window onto the grounds. The lake shined silver in the moonlight.

"It's strange to think in two weeks everyone will be gone."

"What will you do?"

"There's a couple I stay with. They're old friends of Prof. Dumbledore. And I'll visit Uncle Aberforth."

"Uncle Aberforth?"

"He's not really my uncle, but he looks in on me from time to time. When I was little I used to help him tend his goats. He owns The Hog's Head pub. I think he's related to Dumbledore, but I really don't know. He doesn't like to talk about him much. What will you do?"

"I'll go home, I guess. Terry said he wanted to take us all to Gibraltar so we might do that. Don't know exactly besides that. I guess play quidditch with Izzy. She wants to be seeker next year with Creevey graduating. She'll probably make me play day and night."

"Sounds like fun. I would have loved to have a little sister or brother."

"It's not as much fun as it sounds, but- Hey! That's Holly!"

"Where?"

"Down there! See, by the boathouse." Sure enough it was Holly, she could have almost been mistaken for a ghost in her white nightgown, her braids undone and white hair flowing down her shoulders. "We have to go get her!" Bridget nodded and off they ran, right into Ceelee Carrow who was enjoying a donut while lying on the thick rail of the main stone staircase.

"Hey, what are you two doing out so late?" she asked, finishing the final bite and hopping down.

"Nothing," Bridget answered.

Matt shook his head. Now was not the time to pretend everything was fine. If Lestrange had done anything to Holly, they'd probably need Ceelee. They were no match for a trio of Death Eaters on their own. "It's Holly. We just saw her by the boathouse in her night gown. I don't think she's ok. There was something wrong."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go then."

They had just made it out the main doorway when a hand caught the door and a familiar voice spoke, "Well, well, well, what have we here?"

"Sod off, McLaggen," Ceelee said. "We don't need you bothering us."

"Get back in here. As a prefect it is my job to make sure all students are in their houses."

"Listen McLaggen-"

"Look Liam, we wouldn't be going out if we didn't need to. It's an emergency," Matt explained.

"If it's an emergency you need to tell a professor and let them handle it. I don't know if you missed it, but someone cast the dark mark on the grounds and we still don't know who. Not to mention those Death Eaters just roaming about."

Ceelee was incredulous. "Since when did you become the type to not dive into danger headfirst?"

"Since it involved people I cared about getting hurt."

"And we're trying to help someone we care about."

"Then get a professor. Get Filch."

"Filch?"

"The point is let an adult handle it."

"There's no time," Matt said.

"Well, I'm going." Ceelee reached for the door.

Liam pulled his wand. "Try it."

Ceelee's hand dangled dangerously near her wand pocket. "Don't make me curse you," she warned.

"You aren't that fast on the draw, Carrow."

"I guess we'll find out."

"There she goes!" Bridget cried. The trio's heads snapped to look where she was pointing just in time to see Holly walk into the room from the hall that led to the Hufflepuff common room, swaying slightly from side to side as she slowly walked. Her blue eyes were completely unfocused. She walked silently on bare feet, still coated with grass from the grounds, passing them without so much as a hint of recognition, or that she had seen them at all. It were as though she was in a daze, her gait unsteady, as though she were not even aware she was walking but was being moved by some force.

"Holly!" Matt cried. She made no response, only turned and began padding up the main staircase.

"Holly!" Bridget cried. Still no response.

"She's in a trance," Ceelee said, pulling out her wand. "We need to follow her." Liam nodded.

She walked as though she knew exactly her path though she never appeared to consciously acknowledge it. They followed a short distance behind, up staircases and through corridors until they reached the Headmistress's Office. Holly stood before the gargoyle and it jumped aside.

"What-?" Ceelee said.

"Come on, we've got to hurry," Liam rushed to the portal with the others close behind, diving in just before the gargoyle jumped back. They piled onto each other at the base of the stairs, which began to move them upwards like an escalator, making it hard for them to untangle from each other. As they approached the top Matt watched Holly step off, avoiding a goblet that lay half spilled on the floor, and turn to face them. Rodolphus Lestrange stepped up from behind her, his hands upon her shoulders. "How nice, you brought visitors," he said, in his oily tone.

"He doesn't want them killed. Not yet," Holly spoke, staring at them.

"Very well."

Matt saw a bright flash of red and then nothing.


	22. Chapter 22: The Dementor's Soul

**Chapter 22: The Dementor's Soul**

Matt blinked. His eyes were still blurry. He made to reach for his glasses from the bedside table but his arms wouldn't move. He couldn't feel the warmth of his quilt. Had he kicked it off again in the night? It felt like he was sitting on cold stone. Maybe he had fallen out of bed? Why couldn't he move his arms? And what was that red light? He blinked again. There was the limp form of Prof. McGonagal at his feet. No, this was not his dormitory at all. His memories whooshed back to him and he sat up straight, the ropes around his wrist pulling against the tied up forms of Liam and Bridget behind him.

Rodolphus Lestrange was standing by a great stone basin that seemed to be filled with something that was neither liquid nor smoke but glowed a faint blue, not entirely unlike the sampo had, Ceelee just behind him. Holly stood before him as though in a trance, her arms hanging limply by her side. A large black cloaked creature floated over a stone platform, chains encircling its grey scabbed wrists, a pale blue patronus of a wolf prowling about it. Rabastan was watching it gleefully as he stood beside a long metal table. " _Sectum Sempura!_ " he said, slashing at the area that might have been the Dementor's stomach. A pouch of glowing orbs fell out, hanging by greasy black innards.

"Holly, come forward." Rodolphus said, silkily.

"Don't hurt her!" Matt cried. "Please!"

Rodolphus smiled at him. "It's really too late for that." From his pocket he produced a glowing red stone. It seemed to pulse like a heart beating in his hand. "I see you and your friends are awake. I remember you from the bridge. What was your name again?"

"Does it matter?" Matt spat.

"No, not really. Celestina tells me you are a squib. Is that true?"

"Ceelee!"

"He's the first squib at Hogwarts," she supplied. "And no threat to you."

"I don't know whether I should kill you or congratulate you. It's clear the standards here have slipped since I attended," Rodolphus said.

"Carrow! What's going on?!" Liam had clearly just woken up.

"Isn't it obvious, Gryffindor? Or are you as dumb as the rest of your ilk?"

Matt could feel Bridget squirming beside him. Liam threw himself forward, pulling them all against their joined ropes painfully. "Dammit Carrow! I told you we couldn't trust her!"

"That might be the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say, McLaggen," Ceelee taunted.

"She's such a good girl." Rodolphus stroked her head. "The master will be quite taken with her I'm sure." Matt thought he saw the briefest grimace of disgust when Rodolphus touched her, but then, that was probably only because that was what he wished to see. He couldn't believe she had betrayed them. Had it all been a lie? "Now then, Holly, please come here."

Holly did as she was commanded.

"Please give me the master."

She reached into the front pocket of her overalls and pulled from them the little white mouse and handed it over to Rodolphus.

"My friend, you are looking well." Rodolphus said, and by the mere act of shifting his hand his fingertips began to glow and the mouse levitated over to the table where it lay. Wandless magic! "There now. Let's make you more comfortable." He snapped his fingers and suddenly the mouse began to grow and distend until it was no longer a mouse lying on the table, but the body of a fully grown man with skin the color of milk and hair like dried straw. "Hello, Bartemius."

"That's Barty Crouch jr.!" Liam shouted.

"Very good, young man."

"But he's dead," Liam said. "He died in Azkaban!"

"Obviously the reports of his demise were somewhat... exaggerated. Not for the first time, either, were they, Barty?" The body didn't answer.

"How?"

"Well, it was rather simple really." Rodolphus twisted his fingers and scenes, as though from a movie, appeared within a circle of flames. "After the dementor administered the kiss to Mr. Crouch his body was taken back to Azkaban to waste and die as an example to us all. Obviously, it did not have the desired effect." Matthew watched as the prisoners revolted, a skeletal woman blowing a hole in the side of the island prison and laughing maniacally as the others escaped on brooms. Two emaciated men whom Matt recognized as the Lestranges broke into the cell where Barty Crouch jr. sat, listless, looking more like a corpse than a man. They ducked under his arms and, between them, hoisted him up.

"We need to go!" a large blond man shouted, waving them on. "The dementors won't be held off much longer." Matt watched the shadows of men battling dementors cast in the glowing blue of the patronus.

"He's too heavy!" Rabastan cried. Though it was clear Crouch was so thin even Matt could probably have lifted him, prolonged time in prison had probably left them too weak for even such a small task.

"Then leave him. He's as good as dead."

"No!" Rodolphus ran from under the arm of the living corpse and grabbed the large man's wand. "Sorry, Barty." He waved it and in a moment Barty Crouch jr. was transfigured into the form of a white mouse. He scooped up the mouse and put it in the front of his shirt as the wall blew out and a crew of black cloaked figures with silver masks rode up on brooms.

The scene changed to a large room in an opulent mansion. The woman from before, with wild black hair and heavily lidded eyes, still sunken and wasted, paced back and forth. Rodolphus was seated and Rabastan standing by the door. The white mouse lay still on a Moroccan style octagonal end table, next to a decanter of scotch and a half filled rock glass. "What are we supposed to do about him?" She asked, pointing to the mouse. "Even if we can preserve his body he has no soul!"

"We'll get his soul back, Bellatrix," Rodolphus said.

"And just how do you propose we'll do that?"

Rabastan warily raised a finger. "There is a theory, that dementors don't actually instantly consume the souls of the people they kiss, but they store them, siphoning off their happiness to live off of."

"Then whatever dementor has Barty's soul will starve," Bellatrix Lestrange said caustically.

"If we can just find the dementor that kissed him, we should be able to harvest his soul and return it to him."

Bellatrix threw her hands up in exasperation. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," Rodolphus said, taking a sip from the glass.

"Oh why didn't I think of that? I'll just pop on over to Borgin and Burkes and pick one up."

"The Dark Lord has the power. What did he say when you spoke to him?"

Bellatrix rounded on him. "The Dark Lord doesn't care!" she hissed. "He told me to bring Barty to him and he would make the end quick and merciful."

Though he did not move there was a notable change in Rodolphus's aspect. "Quick and merciful? Has he forgotten what Barty did for him? How he went to Azkaban for him? How he risked everything to bring him back? Has he forgotten his most loyal follower?"

"We went to Azkaban too! We were just as loyal as he was!"

"Have you forgotten how many times Barty saved our lives?"

"I remember it was his carelessness that got us caught."

"Each of us played a role in that night."

"Let's say he could make a Philosopher's Stone, or find one, or whatever. We'd still have to find the dementor who has his soul. How long do you think that will take? How do you propose to keep his mind from deteriorating until then? Who knows how much of it's already gone."

"We'll transfer his memories. I will take them."

"And how do you propose we do that?"

"Dumbledore has an item in his office, the pensieve-"

"Dumbledore?!" She cackled. "Dumbledore?! Do you expect to just waltz into his office and say 'Excuse me, Prof. Dumbledore, but might I use your pensieve to remove the memories of my dead friend and put them in my own head?'"

"Once the plan has been completed the Carrows say they will be more than happy to support us."

"The Carrows twins? Amycus and Alecto? They couldn't even curse themselves out of a burlap sack. Do you even realize how mad that sounds?!"

"I'm sure you would be the expert."

"Oh of course! You think I'm mad. You want to rely on the help of the Carrows? Does Amycus know about you and his wife? I've seen you with her."

"I was not the first to forget our vows."

"You're just jealous he chose me. You should be honored that of all women he selected your wife to be worthy of him."

"I assure you I am far from jealous. He is welcome to you, Bellatrix. You know why he won't save Barty, don't you? It's because he feels threatened by him."

"Ha! Do you really think the Dark Lord would feel threatened by the likes of Barty Crouch jr.?"

"You know as well as I what Barty can do. And the Dark Lord knows it too."

"Are you suggesting my Lord is afraid of him?" Bellatrix was incredulous.

"I suggest nothing. He is ready to murder his most loyal follower because he is afraid that someday he will surpass him."

"I am his most loyal follower!"

"No my dear, you are merely his whore."

Rage flashed in her eyes. "I should take that mouse to him right now." She reached for the comatose rodent.

Rodolphus pulled his wand on her. "You'll do no such thing."

She laughed, the sound turning into an insane giggle. "You really think you can take me on?" She reached for her wand.

"No, but we can." Rabastan was standing with his wand pointed at her back, Magnus Rossier had appeared from the right corner, the wand so familiar to Matt, drawn.

"Alright." She said her head twitching. "Fine. Let him waste away and die. But remember this day." She pulled her wand as the brothers readied to attack, she vanished in a puff of smoke.

"It's not working!" Rodolphus now sat on the floor of the headmaster's office. A thin sliver of whispy smoke trailed out from his temple and back into the pensieve. Above him the same blond man lay on the same silver table. "Why isn't it working?" he said through gritted teeth. Amycus and Alecto Carrow helped him to his feet.

"I read that cells can carry some form of genetic memory from their parents. Perhaps the reason the memories won't hold is that there simply is not enough familiar for them to cling to," Rabastan said.

"Does Barty have any family left?" Rodolphus demanded.

"Not with his mother and father dead. Though perhaps he might have a close cousin."

Rodolphus plunged his face into the wispy smoke of the pensieve. Matt saw moments of Barty Crouch's life flashing past. Holding up an award for his father only to be chastised for interrupting. His mother holding him, covered in mud, as his father lambasted him for getting so dirty right before the Ministry Dinner Party. The owl arriving with the news of his twelve outstanding OWLS now his father would be impressed. It was as expected. And then suddenly they stopped on the image of a baby with milky, almost translucent skin and pale yellow hair, cradled in the arms of a woman who was humming a lullabye. His head rose from the wisps. "There is a child."

"That's Bertha Jorkins!" Liam shouted. "The missing ministry official. I remember Rita Skeeter was all over the ministry about her disappearance. She never mentioned she had a child."

"That is because Ms. Jorkins didn't know herself."

"How is that possible?" Bridget could not keep from asking.

"On a house call to the elder Mr. Crouch, Ms. Jorkins became aware of Barty's presence."

The scene in the flames followed along. "You're... You're Barty Crouch jr." she said, with something akin to terror in her eyes.

"But Barty was able to convince her that his father had railroaded him in order to preserve his own name."

"If I was really a Death Eater would my father really have broken me out of Azkaban? Would he keep a guilty man in his own house?" Barty said to Bertha Jorkins.

She leapt at him, giving him a warm embrace. "Oh, I always knew you were innocent! Everyone told me I was mad, but I knew you would never - you could never..."

"In her he saw a way to escape from his confinement," Rodolphus continued.

"You need to get me out of here," Barty said, sitting on a couch in some living room.

A cup of tea was set in front of him and Bertha sat down next to him. "I'm working on it. Believe me, I am. I've almost got enough to get us both to France. I've put in for a transfer. That way I can take care of you."

Barty covered her hand, still holding the tea with his own, "You already take care of me. I've been hopeless for so long, and now..." Though the words and the gestures were romantic, Matt could not see a trace of love in his eyes. There was the sound of someone apparating in the foyer. "He's home early. You've got to go! Out the back door!" Barty whispered urgently. He threw a sheet over himself and lay still. Matt heard the sound of the back door.

"Barty! Was that you?" an older man with a neat mustache said as he entered the room, Matt could see him through the thin fabric. "Oh good, you're still where I left you." He sat down and took up the cup of tea. "Winky? Why did you make two cups of tea?"

A female house elf in a snowy white tea towel with a nose the size and shape of a large tomato appeared. "I... I thought you might have tea with the young master."

The older man looked down at the covered form. "Next time consult me before you waste tea."

The house elf smashed her head against the coffee table, leaving a deep wedge shape in her forehead. "Yes, master. Winky is very sorry. She will not be doing that again."

"Good," He said, taking a sip.

"Perhaps it was the need for human companionship, though more likely it was merely to fully convince her to continue with his plan, but Barty entered into a physical relationship with the woman, the results of which, you see before you," Rodolphus said, indicating towards Holly.

Barty watched, amused as Bertha Jorkins bounced the baby in her arms, humming. "When you didn't return for so long I was afraid you had given up."

"No. Never! Mr. Crouch sent me to Albania and I stayed a little longer to have her where no one would question her name. I named her Holly. Holly Crouch. I hope that's alright. She looks just like you, doesn't she?"

There was the sound of someone apparating in the foyer. "You'd better go." Barty shepherded her toward the door.

"No, I'm staying."

"You can't."

"No. I'm going to confront him. When he sees his grandchild he'll have to accept that you cannot be kept cooped up in this house any longer."

"Barty Crouch sr. was understandably furious."

The scene moved forward quickly as Bertha Jorkins confronted the older man and a heated argument ensued. "If you don't let us go I'll tell the Minister of Magic what you've done! When he sees Holly, he'll sack you! It'll be all over the papers!"

Panic, horror, fear, rage, flashed in his eyes as he raised his wand and yelled "Obliviate!" The force of the spell knocked the woman off of her feet. She lay on the floor next to the screaming baby. Barty Crouch jr. went for her wand. "Stupify!" The younger man lay still on the floor. Barty Crouch sr. stared at the scene. "What have I done?"

He bent over to check the woman's pulse, and nodded, satisfied she was still alive. Taking an invisibility cloak, he covered Barty. He took the baby in his arms and bounced it a few times. Holly instantly stopped crying and smiled at him. He returned her gaze with a momentary softness that just as quickly hardened. He looked away from the baby.

A few minutes later she awoke. "Mr. Crouch?" she said as she got up. "What am I doing here?"

"I was telling you that I was going to decline your transfer to Paris. You are too important to the ministry."

"Paris?, why would I want to go to Paris?"

"Change of scenery, I think you said. Something about a bad break up?"

"Oh! Dennis? But that was ages ago. I must have put the transfer in and forgotten about it. Paris? Really!"

"Yes, that must have been what happened." Holly giggled from Mr. Crouch's arms.

"Oh what a cute baby!" she exclaimed. "Whose is it?"

A pained expression flitted across Mr. Crouch's face. "Her parents were killed by Death Eaters. I was going to take her to a family friend to care for her."

She waggled her finger at the baby who clasped at it. "Oh she's such a love! I've always wanted a daughter."

"Yes, well, maybe someday you'll have one."

"Not likely, with the men out there today."

"Anyway, I really must be leaving. I'll see you out."

Matt heard Bridget choke back a sob.

"Of course, a memory charm powerful enough to make her forget her own child did leave Ms. Jorkins a bit addled. She never did recover her full senses. Mr. Crouch quietly transferred her to Ludo Bagman's care. And the child he sent to live with his old friends Larry and Denise Mills. Which is where we found her. Though they were unwilling to part with her easily."

The child, a much younger Holly, not more than five, hid behind a loveseat clutching a stuffed bear to her chest, her eyes shut tight in fear as there was the sounds of a violent scuffle and two green lights flashed above. Then there was silence. Suddenly a large hand reached out and grabbed her arm. She shrieked.

She was pulled to the pensieve crying as they plunged her face into the watery pool. Wisps of memories swarmed her head, entering at every point. Her mouth was frozen open in an endless scream as the thoughts wormed their way into her mind.

They were now on a street somewhere in London. "Watch over them, Euphemia," Rodolphus said, handing the unconscious Holly over, the mouse Barty Crouch jr. in her pocket.

"As if I don't already have my hands full." the unpleasant looking woman said as Rodolphus handed her a large sack of galleons. An Augury watched from the upper window.

Rodolphus traveled the stone along the tips of his fingers. "Philospher's Stones are ravenous. They must be made through the taking of life and fed in the same way, always demanding more food of its owner. Of course, Mr. Flamel never had the stomach for such a thing. Kill a phoenix to make a stone and it rises from the ashes. Kill a rat to make a crude version. Enough to keep he and his wife alive, though not to restore youth. Fortunately, our dear friend, Magnus, does not suffer from the same weakness." Rodolphus rolled the stone within his hand, bringing it up to the tips of his fingers so the glowing red caught the light as he looked into it. "The funny thing about a Philosopher's Stone, it knows it is an abomination, a violation of all the laws of magic, and thus it seeks the life of its creator most of all as vengeance for its very existence. This stone, this poor creation born from the bodies of mice and rats, has drunk deep of its creator's blood, absorbing his magic. And the blood of the wife and many others as well. But now, Barty, that we have all the pieces. It's time to bring you back."

He pointed his hand at the dementor and red lightening flew from the tips of his fingers, slicing through the sack of souls. The dementor's shrieks pierced Matt's ears and his wrists instinctively strained against the ropes in a vain effort to cover them. Rodolphus extracted a golden glowing orb from the ruined sack, striding over to the metal table where his friend lay, he opened Barty's mouth and guided the orb in. Barty Crouch Jr.'s body glowed red, and then lay still.

Suddenly he took a deep breath. His eyes flew open and looked about. He sprang from the metal table. "Come now, old friend," Rodolphus waved him over to the pensieve, though it was clear from the faint red glow about Barty that this was less a suggestion and rather he was being compelled to motion. "Holly, come here," he ordered, directing her path with his finger.

Matt watched as Holly walked over to the pensieve, her entire body shaking like a leaf.

"Now, then, let's have a little look, shall we?" Rodolphus suggested.

She shook her head. She was fighting him!

"No? Well, we can't have that." He made a fist as though he were griping her mind and threw it toward the pensieve. Her head jerked forward into the silvery waves. Immediately wisps of memories began to swirl around her head. "That's better." Rodolphus made a motion with his hand and wisps began pouring from her head and into a glowing ball of memories. She screamed. Red lightening flashed as the death eater intensified the transfer.

"No!" Matt shouted, straining at the ropes. Rodolphus chuckled as the ball grew. "There, that should be all of them." Holly's body became limp and fell to the floor.

"Holly!" Matt cried.

"Now then, Barty, come forward." Barty did as he was told and placed his face into the liquid. The glowing ball merged into his head. Barty's face jerked up. A smile spread across his lips. "Rodolphus! It is good to see you old friend!" They embraced. "I'll take the stone." Rodolphus handed it over to him. He strode over to Matt and his friends, taking Bridget's chin in his hand he turned it up toward him. She stared at him with undisguised malice. "And I see you brought the Selkie girl. Very good. And the squib. And a Gryffindor. Good, we'll need him to open the door."

"I'll never help you!" Liam said. Ceelee smacked him in the back of the head.

Barty waved his hand, shutting Liam's mouth. "Silence. I don't need you to talk." He turned to his friend. "Rodolphus, this really is spectacular. The Dark Lord will be so pleased when we give him this."

Rodolphus's face fell. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the Dark Lord was killed three years ago."

"Yes, he was. But with the selkie girl we can bring him back."

"I'm not certain that would be such a good idea. He did order you killed."

"Nonsense. That was clearly one of Bellatrix's lies. She felt threatened by me."

"What about the girl?" Rabastan interrupted, standing near Holly.

"She's dead. Leave her. She's of no more use to me."

Matt saw red. He threw himself forward against the ropes only to find they were no longer binding him. He flew at Barty Crouch, knocking him over. The stone flew from his hand, rolling on the ground. "Get the stone!" Rodolphus yelled. Matt rolled, regaining his feet in time to grab the stone.

"Catch!" Ceelee shouted. Matt saw Liam and Bridget catch their wands. A stunning spell flew at Liam from Rabastan, but Bridget blocked it. "Matt!" Ceelee cried. She tossed him his wand just in time for him to use his wand to block a blast from Rodolphus, but this time, instead of simply absorbing the blast, the energy shot out from the tip, blasting a few stones out of the wall.

"What?" Matt looked at the wand, and then the stone in his hand. He felt the power coursing through him from the stone to the wand, as though he were its conduit. He smiled. "Reducto!" He shouted, aiming for the pillar next to which Rodolphus stood. It exploded spectacularly, throwing the death eater to the ground.

"What's going on up here!" Magnus shouted. "Hey! That's my wand!"

"Stupify!" Matt shouted, feeling the power flow through him. Was this what it was like to be a wizard? Magnus dodged, wand at the ready.

"Magnus!" Barty shouted, gesturing to the other two to stop. "Hold your fire!" He turned to Matthew. "You're the squib. The one who crossed the lake with us. You can put your wand down, I won't hurt you. I know what you want. You want to become a real wizard. I assure you, with the stone we can make that happen. I know you can feel its power coursing through you. The ministry won't allow you to keep it. They force you to give it to them so they can lock it in some vault in Gringotts forever. But, if you come with us, we won't steal it from you."

Matt felt the power of the stone pulsing through him. Crouch was right, they'd make him give it up. The Ministry wouldn't want to allow him to keep it. It wouldn't matter if he was finally able to do magic. He felt his wand, warm in his hand, for once it truly felt like his and not simply a stick. He was a wizard. He saw all his dreams before him. His mother crying tears of joy and his father cheering him on as he performed a simple levitation spell, he saw himself hoisting the Quidditch cup from aloft his broom, walking the halls a Head Boy badge, a dozen NEWTs with a bright future ahead of him - all he had ever wanted if he just... He felt the shape of the coin Tip had given him in his pocket. All he had ever wanted...

"Ceelee!" he shouted, throwing the stone to her.

She caught it easily with the reflexes of a seeker. The second it touched her fingers it burst into flames. She grasped it with both hands. Her eyes flew wide open turning a bright, glowing red as flames shot from her hands and forearms. Red lightening crashed and crackled all around them.

"Fall back!" Barty shouted, covering his head with his wand. The Death Eaters fired indiscriminately at the students as they fell back toward the window when suddenly there was a great crash. Tip Walker smashed through an upper window followed by Cass Weasley, Liberta Jones, Phichit, Izzy, and the entire Gryffindor quidditch team. Prof. Jones leapt from her broomstick to McGonagal.

"Living Death potion." She unstoppered a vile and administered it to the Headmistress. Just then, a curse singed through her grey hair.

"Liberta Jones. It's been a long time," Barty said with a bow.

"Not long enough, Crouch," she growled.

"Do you really think you can take me on without that old cripple? Crucio!"

"Protego!" Lightening struck beside her. "Carrow!"

"She's... she's absorbing too much of the stones magic," McGonagal croaked from the ground where she was slowly propping herself up. "Someone needs to absorb some of it... or she'll die."

Matt tried to run to her but was blocked by Magnus Rossier. "I'll be having my wand back now." He held out his hand expectantly.

"Not on your life!" Matt said, ducking a blow. He danced between Rossier's curses, but still getting no closer to Ceelee.

Barty was showing exactly how he got twelve outstanding OWLS holding Boots Luna, Creevey, Card, and Wycliffe at bay as well as Prof. Jones, while Bridget and Phichit took on Rodolphus. Tip was proving he was hard to hit, ducking Rabastan's curses as Liam fought on the other side. He must have landed a few of his own because slugs were pouring from the Death Eater's nose.

"Heads up!" Cass shouted and a stone pelted Rabastan across the back.

"Bonzer shot!" Tip shouted. Cass circled around on her broom, preparing for another.

Ceelee screamed, her entire body cast in glowing red. Lightening struck all over the small room. Liam ran to her and grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. "Come on, Carrow," Matt heard him whisper into her ear, "let's see what you've got. I can take it."

Power flowed from her into his body. Matt could see him grimacing in pain, but he did not let go. The red of Ceelee's body faded and she went limp in his arms. The stone dropped from her hands to the ground.

"Grab the stone!" Barty yelled.

Rodolphus blew back his attackers with a curse and ran for the stone. Magnus caught Matt in the side with a blow, knocking him to the ground and ran for the stone. Matt was helpless to stop him. He felt his wand twitch in his hand. There was still enough power left from the stone for one more shot. "Reducto!" he shouted. The stone shone brilliantly as its own power was turned against it. Then it slowly turned black and crumbled to dust just as Lestrange reached it.

"I'll murder them! I'll murder them all!" Rodolphus screamed.

"Oh no you won't." McGonagal was standing, braced against her desk, wand at the ready.

"Retreat!" Barty shouted. He whistled and at once four thestrals crashed through into the room. They mounted the beasts and flew from the tower.

"Ceelee!" Matt cried. He watched as both she and Liam wavered and collapsed to their knees, their eyes shut, Liam still holding Ceelee tightly to him.

Prof. Jones was bandaging a large badly burned slice in her arm with a strip of her robe. Card had been stunned and lay unconscious on the floor with a number of others who had been wounded. "Holly." Matt crawled over to Holly and placed his fingers on the side of her throat. There was no flutter of life beneath them. "Holly!" She did not answer, only lay still, staring at the portraits above her with sightless eyes.


	23. Chapter 23: The Sampo

**Chapter 23: The Sampo**

No. She couldn't be dead. He wouldn't let her be dead. His mind searched for some answer as he gathered up her frail body to himself. It was still warm, her feet still wet from the dew. There was a pain in his side. He wasn't sure why. Was this what it felt like to watch someone you cared for die?

"How is she?" Bridget asked. His mind whirred, clicking to the answer. The selkie girl. She could bring the Dark Lord back, Crouch had said. She could bring _her_ back. He just needed to tell Ceelee. But no, she was still unconscious.

"She's... she's unconscious."He lied, his mind whirring fast. He needed a Slytherin. And the disc. Tip was here, so that was Hufflepuff. Bridget was Ravenclaw. There was any number of Gryffindors to choose from, though for once he wished his sister had tagged along - the fewer people who knew, the better. Maybe he could find Andy. But it was late. Andy would already be in the dungeons. He wouldn't be able to contact him. Did anyone here even know a Slytherin who could help them?

"We should get her to Madam Pomfrey," Prof. Jones said, tying off her bandage with her teeth. "I can take her."

"No!" he turned her away. "I'll do it. You need to help the others. Bridget, could you come with me?" She nodded. "Thanks." He picked up Holly, her head lolled back, long braids swaying down. One had become untied and was fraying into crimped lock of straw blond hair. He looked up at all the others, injured, cursed - all people he knew, not like the battle of Hogwarts where they had been largely strangers - Wycliffe seemed to be missing the bones in his right leg, Phichit was nursing a nasty burn. Phichit. Phichit was dating a Slytherin. "Phichit, Tip, you too." The nodded and followed him down the stairs and out into the corridor.

He turned on them at once, "Phichit, can you contact Flint?"

"Flint? Darius Flint?" Tip asked. "Why would he be able to contact Darius Flint?"

"It's not important why. Can you?"

Phichit nodded. "Yeah, why?"

"I need you to tell him to meet us in the empty room where we waited to be sorted."

"What?"

"Just tell him it's important. And I need you there too. Tell him to meet you there in ten minutes."

"Okay." He hurried off.

"Tip, I need you to get Shoshanna. Tell her we need the disc. She'll understand."

"Well I hope she does cause I sure don't."

"Tell her the same thing, to meet us in ten minutes."

"What about me? I don't want to miss out on an adventure."

"This isn't an adventure. Now hurry."

"Fine. But I'm coming too."

"Whatever, as long as you don't tell anybody."

A hand flew to Bridget's mouth. "Oh no," she breathed. She looked at Holly's pale form and lay a hand on her forehead. "Oh no, Matt. We can't."

"Why not?"

"You know the story of the second brother."

"It's only been a few minutes. And it'll be complete."

"Matt, they sealed it for a reason. It's dangerous."

"Do you really want to let her... When you could save her?"

Bridget stroked Holly's blond hair. Tears flowed from her eyes splashing onto the milky white pate of her brow. "Okay. But only this once."

"What's going on?" Tip asked.

"Get Shoshanna!" Matt ordered.

"Fine, fine." He jogged off toward the kitchens.

* * *

"Hey, what are you doing here?" Flint asked as he entered the room to find the others already gathered. He stared accusingly at Phichit.

"I'm sorry, we needed a Slytherin," Matt said.

"Now will you tell us what we're doing here? And why is Holly still with you? Weren't you taking her to Madam Pomfrey?" Phichit demanded.

"Alright, but you all have to promise you won't tell anyone what you're about to see."

"Fine. Now tell us already," Phitchit said.

"Flint, do you swear?" Matt was not going to let even one possibly tell the secret.

"Yeah," Flint looked irritated, but seemed to brighten when Phichit link his fingers with his at that word.

"Under penalty of an unremovable curse?"

"Yeah, sure." He tightened his grip on Phichit's hand and they smiled at each other. "You're keeping our secret, right?"

Matt nodded. His side burned more than ever as he took a deep breath. "Alright. Holly's here because... because... because she's not hurt. He killed her. Lestrange or Crouch or whoever you want to say... he killed her. She's dead. And we're going to bring her back."

"But how is that even possible?" Phichit said.

Bridget swallowed hard. "There's a way. Follow us."

"What is this place?" Flint said as he stepped out onto the floor of the Regent's Ballroom.

"When did you have the time to find this place?" Phichit asked.

"When Flint beat the tar out of you," Shoshanna said.

"Oh... yeah."

"Seems things have improved since then."

"Yeah..." Phichit's cheeks reddened.

"Wooooo!" Tip slid across the floor. "This place is awesome! What's behind those doors?" He ran up to them and started opening each. "Aces!" There's a dueling room!"

"Come on, Tip. Don't forget why we're here," Matt said.

Tip ran up to him grinning like a child at an amusement park. "We have to bring Cass next time, and Donnie, and McLaggen, and... and..."

"This isn't a game! Holly's dead." Matt almost shouted.

"Yeah, but we're going to bring her back to life."

"We don't even know yet if we can."

"Of course we can. You said we can. So she'll be fine." The simple trust Tip Walker could have. The well of unbridled optimism that never ran dry. It would have been obnoxious if it weren't so contagious. Maybe it would be fine. Of course it would. How could it not be if Tip was running around like a four year old hopped up on two sticks of cotton candy dipped in espresso?

They came to the final door. Shoshanna put her wand in the hole by the badger, Bridget in the hole by the Eagle. "Phichit, put your wand in the hole by the Lion," Matt said. "Here, Tip, hold Holly." Holly was almost three inches taller than Tip and he had to embrace her to hold her up. Flint didn't need direction, he placed his wand in the hole by the snake and the green light joined the rest. Now it was Matt's turn. He placed his hand onto the handprint and the door opened. He took Holly back and walked straight to the sampo.

Bridget placed her hand on the sampo and the lid removed itself, floating to the ground. Matt lay Holly on top of the silvery liquid. She sunk in as the liquid turned blue.

"Now what do we do?" Bridget asked.

"It says you have to recite this incantation."

Bridget placed her hands over the bluish glow and recited the strange words as Holly disappeared into the liquid. Suddenly golden light burst forth from the stone basin and Holly's body seemed to rise up into the air. She floated before them as beams of light flew around her. A light, like a shooting star, entered her mouth and her chest rose and fell. She was breathing! She floated back down to the sampo where she floated on the silvery liquid. Her eyelids fluttered open. Her pale blue eyes found their target. "Matty?" she said with a slight snaggletoothed smile.

"Hey, Holly. It's good to see you." And with that, Matt collapsed.

* * *

Matt's head felt heavy. He was awake, he knew that much, but he couldn't will himself to open his eyes. What a nightmare. His side still burned for some reason, though he wasn't sure why. He heard voices from nearby.

"Is he awake yet?" It sounded like Liam. What was Liam doing in the Hufflepuff dormatory?

"No." That was Ceelee. Liam was talking to Ceelee of his own volition?

"How are you doing?"

"Madam Pomfrey says it'll be a few days until the burns heal."

Madam Pomfrey? He opened his eyes just enough to see through the lashes. He was in the hospital wing! So it hadn't been a nightmare. Ceelee was in the bed diagonal to his. She was holding up her hands which were covered in bandages to the elbows.

"Did she say what happened?"

"Prof. Jones, thinks the stone reacted to my blood. She wanted to know if I was related to the Flamels. I said I didn't know. But then, they've been around so long anything's possible. Thanks for what you did back there. How are your burns?"

"Good as new. Hey, nothing to thank me for. No one gets to curse you, except for me. You're mine, Carrow."

"Sod off, McLaggen," Ceelee said with the warmest smile he'd ever seen on her face.

And then the most shocking thing he'd ever seen occurred, more shocking even then Barty Crouch coming back to life. Liam McLaggen leaned over and kissed Ceelee Carrow.

"Merlin's beard! You're dating!" Matt cried.

"When did you wake up!" Liam said in shock.

"I say we obliviate him," Ceelee suggested.

"Agreed."

"Hey hey hey! I mean I umm think it's great you've settled your differences." Matt said.

Liam walked over to him and sat on the corner of his bed. "Yeah, but we're not exactly out about it yet, so you know, don't tell anyone."

"Or I'll hex your mouth right off your face," Ceelee added.

"Can she do that?" Matt asked.

"Probably. I know she has a charm that turns your lips into a zipper. Not a fun day." He shot Ceelee a cross glare.

She grinned. "Not for you. I recall it being quite fun."

"How's Holly?"

"She's fine. Better than fine. You'd never believe she was the same person."

"I'm not sure she is, now that Barty Crouch is out of her mind. And why am I here?"

"Ah, check your left side, mate." Matt looked to see a large bandage covering his left side. "Rossier hit you with that sectum sempura curse. You were pretty lucky it only grazed you, I mean, you'll have to buy a new cloak and it's an ugly scar but you'll live. I guess you were so caught up you didn't even realize you'd been hit. You fainted from the loss of blood. Gave everyone quite a scare."

They heard voices from door. It sounded like a number of people. "Is Celestina Carrow able to take visitors?" a female voice he didn't recognize asked.

"Yes, she's with a friend right now. You're welcome to go down. Just be quiet, Mr. Boot is not yet awake."

A group of three people with bright red hair came through the door. Matt recognized Cass Weasley and Charlie Weasley, but the third, a beautiful, athletic young woman with a glint of challenge in her eye and Holyhead Harpies robes he knew only from her trading card.

"Ohmygosh ohmygosh ohmygosh! It's Ginny Weasley!" Matt had never seen Ceelee so beside herself.

"You're Celestina Carrow?" Ginny asked. Ceelee nodded her head. "My brother tells me you're a big fan. So I brought you something." She pulled out a large poster of herself flying. "Oh wait, just a moment." She took out a quill and signed the bottom, then handed it over to Ceelee. "There you go. I'm proud to have fans like you. Keep fighting. Remember, it doesn't matter where you come from, it matters what you do." Charlie nodded in agreement.

"How... How did you know I was here?"

"Cass told me," Charlie said.

"And Charlie told me everything."

"Everything?" Ceelee's face turned bright red. She tried to hide it in her hands.

"Well, except for the parts Harry told me. He's so hot headed some times." She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, I made him come around before I left."

"Really?"

"No, but I threatened him with a bat bogey hex if he didn't stop being such a git about it." They all laughed. "anyway, Charlie tells me you've got a heckuva Dragon Dive. I'd like to see it sometime"

"Sure!" She turned to Charlie, "Wait, you saw that?"

"Wouldn't've missed it for the world."

Ginny cleared her throat. "Anyway, we've had a talk with our family- "

"Well, really it was George's idea more than ours-"

"And Ron hated it-"

"But, if you ever need a place to stay, there's plenty of rooms in The Burrow."

"Really?" Ceelee was almost beside herself.

"Well, it's not going to get any safer for you," Charlie said. "I'd take you myself, but the nesting period is going to require a lot of my time."

"And we can't have Crouch or Lestrange getting their hands on you. Or your uncle," Ginny added.

"Of course!"

"Then we'll send mum an owl to tell her to pick you up at King's Cross," Charlie said.

"But what about my mum and sister? They'll be expecting me."

"So will Crouch. You know too much, they won't let you go without a fight. We'll alert the ministry there might be trouble. With any luck, the presence of a few Aurors should scare them away. But we'll be there too."

"And I'll be there to check on you. We can play a few matches," Ginny said. "You can show me what you've got. But keep in mind, I won't go easy on you."

"Good," Ceelee said.

They talked for some time, though Matt caught very little of it as exhaustion took him and he fell asleep to the lull of voices.

It was finally the evening of the End of Term banquet. All the students were discussing their upcoming plans for the summer. Tip was regaling everyone with his plans to join his mother on the set of some mob movie. He was demonstrating how she would crash a getaway car, showing the fake car rolling over and over before careening off the table. Matt sat with Donnie and Shoshanna talking about how they intended to visit each other over the break. He had heard Holly would be staying with Bridget with her adoptive family in Hogsmeade. He had sent Tycho, his owl, with a letter suggesting to his parents that perhaps they might take a highland vacation this summer. The MacMillains had invited them all to their annual family games which promised to be a massive affair of freckles and blond hair and black and gold. It would be a good excuse to stop by Hogsmeade and see the girls.

Prof. McGonagal stood and cleared her throat. "Good evening students. I know you are no doubt anxious for the summer break to begin. I would recommend you enjoy it to its fullest, but do be careful. We all hope for the quick capture of Bartemius Crouch jr., but do not act with such regard as though he and his followers have already been captured." Followers. Matt noticed the use of the word. The idea that he was to be the next You Know Who was whispered throughout the rooms and corridors of Hogwarts. "I regret to announce that Prof. Jones will not be returning next year." Groans of protest met this announcement.

Prof. Jones stood. "Thank you. It has been quite the experience teaching you. I wish I could stay. But with Barty Crouch back, my place is with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Don't forget: Constant vigilance! And don't be afraid to write if you see anything strange." She wrote the address of the department in the air in glowing letters. Matt watched as a number of students, including Deb and Shoshanna copied it down. "Remember: It is better to look into something and find it is nothing, than to dismiss it as a waste of time and to find lives might have been saved had you merely said something."

McGonagal retook the podium. "Now then, let us get down to business. The points have been tallied and this year the House Cup goes to Ravenclaw." A great cheer rose from the Ravenclaw table. Matt had to admit he was disappointed. But then, were only Tip's misdeeds tallied alone they would probably be well into the negatives. "

"I tried so hard to keep him out of trouble," Donnie muttered, his head in his hands, clearly thinking the same thing as Matt. "So hard."

Matt lay a hand on his best mate's shoulder. "Short of tying him up for the entire year there was nothing you could have done."

Donnie's head rose with a hopeful expression. "Now there's an idea."

"I don't think Cass would be ok with that," Shoshanna said.

Donnie glanced over at Cass who was showing off her biceps for the first year girls. "No. Probably not."

As a final matter, it has come to my attention that two of our students were not sorted at the beginning of the year as they ought to have been. It is my intention to rectify that oversight now." She produced the Sorting Hat from behind the podium. There was a general titter of excitement. "Mr. Matthew Boot and Miss Holly Mills, would you please come forward." The hall exploded with cheers, the din rang in Matt's ears, he couldn't register his name had been called.

"Go on, Matt. Get up," Donnie said, pushing his friend.

"What?"

"She said your name. Go up there."

He got up and tentatively walked forward joined at the front by Holly. She looked as nervous as he was. He had not had a chance to actually see her since they had brought her back. Liam was right, she was almost unrecognizable from the Holly he had come to know. Her eyes no longer held that hollow look, and she no longer seemed to shrink as she walked. Her straw colored hair, which had almost always been worn in twin plaits, hung lose in crimping waves. She glanced at him and he could not believe how bright and alive her blue eyes were. There was a strength behind them he had never before seen. She was no longer haunted by the ghost that lived inside her brain. She wasn't the same girl he had known. Then she smiled - that same snaggletoothed smile that had greeted him on the riverbank. He smiled back. "It's good to see you, Holly," he said.

"Mr. Boot, I believe you should go first," McGonagal said.

Matt approached the stool, as he sat he turned and looked out at the four houses. Liam shoved Wycliffe over to make room beside himself. Taro was nodding in approval, patting an empty space between he and Bridget. Ceelee allowed a half smile as the other Slytherins applauded with the rest. And then he looked over to Hufflepuff, where Donnie and Shoshanna sat next to his vacated place on the bench. Beside them Deb and Midge and Tip and all of his friends, all waiting with baited breath. His space. He stood up before the Sorting Hat could be placed on his head. "You know what? Thanks. But I'm already where I belong."

The Hufflepuff table exploded in cheers. Tip leapt on him, followed closely by a tearful Donnie and the entire quidditch team, leaving him squashed on the floor beneath them.

"Alright, that's enough. Back to your seats then," McGonagal said. "We still have one more student to sort. Miss Mills."

Holly gulped and took a seat on the stool, crossing her ankles. Prof. McGonagal lowered the hat onto her head. "Gryffindor!" the hat announced. The Gryffindor table cheered as Holly took her place among her true house.

The year had come to an end and Matt was looking forward to seeing his parents again. It was just as he was thinking this that he was drenched by a full glass of pumpkin juice. He turned to see Izzy and Hector laughing their heads off. Now he really couldn't wait to get home, where Izzy wouldn't be allowed to use magic at all and he could finally even the odds.

* * *

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